Do You Know I'm Watching?
by McgeeIsMyFave
Summary: No.5 of Bad McGee/ Good McGee- Timothy McGee is back in Washington for his new job. With a new girlfriend, a new apartment and a new hobby, is Tim safe?
1. Chapter 1

_Flash Forward_

"_Lock this building down, now! Move to the Citadel! Increase to Condition Omicron! Transfer control to Citadel! Confirm?"_

"_Confirmed. Signal away. Transfer is complete. Lockdown has been initiated. Stations reporting Omicron Status."_

"_Confirm locations and statuses of all Alpha Whites, Greys and Blacks."_

"_We have confirmed reports already in, all Alpha Whites confirmed, awaiting on Greys, all Blacks confirmed."_

"_Who hasn't confirmed?" This was not good._

"_Alpha Grey Sierra and Alpha Grey Yankee." Definitely not good._

* * *

Tim stood in his kitchen, feeling relaxed for the first time in ten weeks. In the last ten weeks, he had been transferred once, went back to his old job and then got himself a new one. In the same time, he had caught another traitor and fired a former teammate. Somehow, he had found the time to write personal development plans for more than thirty members of the Special Operations in Camp Pendleton, redesign the plans for the CTOC team in Jacksonville before he left, as well as arrange the transfer of belongings of two people into one brand new apartment.

Tim watched as Cassie and his mother set up the second bedroom, having come to an agreement with two out of the four most important women in his personal life. He let them do what they like to the apartment, but no pink, no animal print, and stay away from the kitchen and the den. As this gave them complete control of the bedrooms, bathrooms, living and dining area, the women agreed to this demand.

Sarah, the third woman in his life, had decided to stay away from Tims place, still not having got the keys to her own new apartment. Tims dad had volunteered to help, but looking at his wife, he opted for a round of golf.

"What a marvellous idea, sweetheart. The best idea you have ever had after proposing to me," purred the wife of the highest ranked man in the navy.

This left Tim alone with his mother and his girlfriend. And he couldn't be happier. The kitchen had been completed before they had moved in, Tim having had it redone, removing the spare closet and including a breakfast bar. Tim liked the new arrangement, giving both him and Cassie more room in the mornings for coffee and the gadgets, as his dad referred to the collection of smartphones, tablets and laptops that the two people had between them.

Tim leant against the granite worktop, his legs resting against the cherry finish doors, he looked out into the rest of the apartment. Out of the corner of his eye, Tim could see the open door to the den, or at least, thats what it had been. Tim had transformed the den into the home office, installing the two PCs with extra screens, along with the printer/scanner, additional power outlets, and, of course, Tims bookcases. The computers had all the latest security updates, as well as Tims personal ones. After all, a man in Tims position had to be extra vigilant about his security.

Tim watched as Cassie and his mom stood in the living area, the doors open to the bedrooms, waving their hands, conducting a very bizarre silent orchestra. He couldn't hear them because he had his headphones on, the latest Caro Emerald album keeping him company while he cooked. Tim had the extractor fan on, but the scent of lamb, rosemary and garlic filled the apartment. Twenty minutes earlier, Tim had prepared the shoulders of lamb, coating them in olive oil, spearing them with garlic cloves and rosemary twigs. This had been covered and put in the oven for the next three and half hours. Dinner would be ready by 7, Tim knew. The sweet potatoes and white potatoes were in the pans, while the broccoli, savoy cabbage and curly kale were in the steamer. Tim planned to feed the four of them tonight, with Sarah planning on going out with her new work friends.

Tim turned away from the conductors of "Renovation Symphony" and focused on dessert. Tonight, he was making tiramisu ice cream cake, Martha Stewarts own recipe. This would be his piece de resistance, if he could do this well, he was going to start in on the layered cake recipes. Thank god he and Cassie worked out, otherwise they would fail their physicals with all the dessert making that Tim did. He and Cassie had already checked out the buildings fitness centre, making sure it was well equipped for each of them. Tim was already booked in for PT training with a Marine and a Navy PT instructor, seeing the benefits of combining both. Cassie would continue with her mixture of Federal hand to hand training along with physical takedowns with the Navy instructor.

Tim reached into the fridge, pulling out the bottle of an Oakwood Pinot Grigio, a moving gift from Penny, the fourth woman in his life. She was, as usual, not in the United States, but in Spain, attending a conference on something Tim didn't quite follow. As usual though, she sent a small gift as a welcome gift. This time, it had been several bottles of wine, along with a selection of cheese and crackers. In Jacksonville, it had been a bedding set, along with cushions, at college, it had been hoodies. Tim loved these gifts, holding onto all those that he could.

As Tim poured the wine into three glasses, he looked up to see his mother smiling at him. He took off the headphones while saying, "Mom?". Alice reached for two of the glasses, one for her and one for Cassie, responding to her son,

"Hum, don't sing, Tim. You have many talents, but the ability to sing in tune is not one of them."

Alice turned and headed for the main bedroom, still bonding with her future daughter-in-law. They had only been officially living together for four days, but Alice knew this was the real thing. She had never seen Timothy so relaxed.

* * *

_Flashforward_

"_Shock her again."_

"_No output."_

"_360."_

"_Charging, clear?" _

_**WHOOMPF!**_

"_We have an output."_

"_Rapid infuser, get that blood into her. Tell the OR we are coming down. If we don't go now, she won't come back next time."_

"_We have more wounded coming in."_

* * *

**Authors note.**

**Thank you to all the reviews that have come in. I know I left you all with a cliffhanger, but you will have to wait a little longer.**


	2. Chapter 2

Tim stretched out on the bed, enjoying a Sunday morning lie in. Tomorrow was his first day in his new job and he had already begun making changes. He had changed the seating arrangements of his staff, so that rather than looking at the backs of each others heads, they could actually see into another persons eyes when they spoke.

"Morning, coffee's waiting." Cassie was a very different person in Washington than Jacksonville. Rather than having to be forced out of bed, Tim woke up alone in bed, and Cassie normally half ready to go. "Let me know what you want to do for breakfast." With that Tim watched as she moved away again. Tim smiled to himself, knowing Cassie was really asking "Are you cooking or are we going out for breakfast?"

Tim climbed out of bed, opening the bedroom curtains, looking out of the view of Washington DC. Having enjoyed the view in Florida, Tim got a view of similar stature for his new place. The view over the city was amazing he thought, with the height of the tenth floor, the noise from the city was dulled considerably. Tim decided to make breakfast, knowing him and Cassie were meeting her dad and brother for a late lunch. He would have toast and some fruit, Cassie would be made an omelette, Tim planning on using some of the cheese left over from last night.

Making his way into the ensuite bathroom, Tim began planning his week, knowing he would have to get caught up on current missions and intelligence gathering. Like in the CTOC, he had meetings scheduled throughout the week, mainly to make sure that efforts weren't being duplicated. He just hoped that his choice was the right one, knowing he had disappointed a few people when he told the Director the position he had chosen.

_BBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGG_

"Who on earth is visiting at this time? Tim, who did you invite over?" Cassie shouted from the kitchen.

"No one." The address was sealed in his personnel file, as per standard procedure, which had now encompassed Cassie as well. Tim moved into the kitchen, heading for the small screen which showed the front door. At the same time, his new cellphone, the highly encrypted Intelligence issued cellphone that very few people had the number to, began ringing. "This is not good." Tim wondered what was happening now. "Hello," not looking forward to the conversation.

"_Agent McGee, Ben Oswold here. Please let in the DoN security agents, Michelle Danson and Robert Thomas. They are there to brief you and Agent Yates over your new security arrangements." _The call ended as quickly as it had begun.

"We'll have to put a pin in breakfast," his eyes on the screen, reaching for the intercom button, "Badges and names please."

"_Michelle Danson and Robert Thomas, DoN Security."_

"Yeah, come on up." Tim looked at Cassie. "Think I'm about to get a security detail."

Ben Oswald was the head of Security for the Department of the Navy, responsible for the security of every ship, base and employee of the Navy and NCIS. Tim knew he had increased security, therefore increased risk, with the acceptance of his new role.

"Great, there goes my privacy." Cassie wasn't upset by this. If this kept Tim safe, she was all for it. "Better cover up, hadn't I?" Cassie teased.

"I like your outfit. Maybe they will to." Cassie was wearing Tims MIT t-shirt, and a pair of grey shorts. As much as Tim loved Cassie, he also fancied her something rotten, admiring her athletic physique that showed off in private.

"Yeah, but they will have to imagine." Cassie moved into the bedroom, planning on getting dressed. Tim felt more rebellious. He was in workout pants and a fitted T, they were interrupting his Sunday, so, his apartment, his rules.

Hearing the knock at the door, Tim went to open it, but first, grabbed his knife from the drawer in the kitchen, shouting from a distance,

"Who is it?"

"Danson and Thomas."

"Where you from?" Tim wanted to show them he cared about his personal security. This also gave him the time to open the safe and pull out his gun.

"DoN Security. You just spoke with our boss." Tim was more reassured, moving to the door, and checking through the eye spot. Seeing the two people from the camera, he opened the door, concealing his gun with the door.

"Badges and ID, please." Tim knew these people would be who they said they were, but they might just be testing him at this point. The two agents showed him their credentials, and Tim opened the door wider, allowing them entry to the apartment. Closing the door, Tim turned to face them, showing them the gun. "Don't need this now." He moved to put it back in the safe, calling for Cassie as he did so. "Cass, you coming out?" Cassie appeared with her back up, which she kept concealed in the bedroom. Tim couldn't help but tease the two Security personnel. "We careful enough for you?"

"So far, yes." Danson answered, Thomas moving to the windows, not to check the view outside, but to see who could into the apartment. "How many weapons are concealed in here?" She wasn't overly concerned with this review, knowing the history of the two agents.

"We each have a primary and a back up, along with a selection of knives in all the rooms." Tim had told Cassie what would change with his position, she had accepted it with no problems, so far.

"Excellent, so far, so good." Danson felt more relaxed already. "Agent McGee, your security in the building is fine. We know you can take care of yourself, and you, Agent Yates. However, we do ask that you allow us to install these new Sat Navs in your vehicles. Each day, a new route to work and home will be sent. This is to monitor you on your way there and back. Should you need to go anywhere, shopping, out for dinner, things like that, please program the destination into the Sat Nav. It will automatically update you with a route. We also have these for you." Passing over two personal panic buttons. "Press these, and a noise of two hundred decibels will go off. It will also alert DoN security to your precise location. If they are pressed by accident, again, do not move and wait for the agents to show up."

"What about our families? Do they need to be made aware of any of this?" Cassie knew Tims family was used to security, but hers wasn't.

"No, these are precautions, we have people in the same situation as yourselves, have been for years, and have never had to use the button. But better to have them and not need them" Danson started,

"Than need them and not have them." Finished Cassie. She had decided not to tell her father and brother about this, they would only tell her to end it with Tim before he got her killed. Cassie knew she had more chance of dying on the job than by being with Tim.

"Precisely. Any questions?" Danson had nothing more to go over with them.

"No, thank you," said Tim, wishing this wasn't necessary.

"Enjoy the rest of your day." With that Danson stood up, heading for the door, Thomas right behind her, not having said a word. Tim guessed he was remembering everything about the apartment, inside and out, analysing any weaknesses and strengths he could about the security of the place.

"You OK?" Tim asked Cassie when the door closed.

"Yeah, just fine. Think they knew about the cameras?" Tim had installed several pen cams throughout the kitchen, living and dining area, connected to a closed circuit feed, all recording and downloading to a laptop in the safe Tim had opened previously.

"If they did, I'll read about it in the report that will be on my desk in the morning." Tim wondered how many other reports would be there.

"Well, thats the joys of being you, Tim. I will be going over a drugs sting with the DEA all day tomorrow. I would offer to swap, but I don't love you that much." Cassie was smiling as she said this, her arms around Tims waist, standing in the morning sun coming in through the windows that separated the living room from the balcony.

"Good to know your love has limits," Tim teased back.

"Well, you wanted to be the Head of Intelligence at NCIS, not me."


	3. Chapter 3

Monday mornings in Washington DC are a very busy time of the week. The city has been slumbering for the two days previous. A weekend in the Capitol is very different to the rest of the week. The Senate and the House of Representatives were closed for business, with the majority of the members of Congress returning to their states and districts, meeting with their constituents. The Federal agencies were staffed by less people than in the week, but these people worked just as hard as their weekday counterparts, if not harder. They took more calls individually, answered and sent more emails, as well as collated intelligence and criminal reports, both from national and international teams. Sunday afternoons were spent on administration, writing up the weekend activities, completing time sheets, checking over reports. One team was preparing their reports, wondering what one particular man would make of them.

"So, what do we know of our new boss?" Asked Tracy Sheridan, one of three senior analysts at NCIS this particular Sunday.

"Its McGee, remember him?" Liam Smith remembered him as a quiet man, overshadowed by his teammates. "The guy is a genius, in every sense of the word. Special Agent, qualified cyber crime tech, last I heard he was qualified at level nine."

"Not to mention, speaks five languages, worked in the CTOC, and his dads an admiral." Janice Mayweather was the shift leader this Sunday, preferring to work the weekend shifts as she avoided the hustle of the normal week when the building was full.

"Still, he's no Gloria Tainer, is he?" Sheridan had admired the woman, greatly. "He's never been a covert operative, has he?"

"Neither have you." Liam shot back. Neither of the two women had spoken to Tim much, but he had, the two of them both being graduates of MIT. Liam suffered from red-green colour blindness and was unfit for field work. Luckily for him, he could still work a computer, and joined NCIS after turning down the NSA. Here at NCIS, he was a level eight qualified cyber tech, alongside his posting as grade five analyst. He was hoping for a promotion soon to senior analyst, mainly so he would get the pay rise to afford the engagement ring for his girlfriend. "The guy has been with NCIS for eight and a half years, qualified cyber tech, analyst, and Senior Field Agent. He was with the CTOC for three years, and covered Special Ops in Cali. Think you could do the job, Sheridan?"

"Better than him, yeah." Tracy Sheridan was bitter about the recruitment of McGee. She knew was under qualified for the role of head of department, but there were seven head of sections who were more experienced than she was. Why the role hadn't gone to one of them, she didn't know, or why Derrick Young, the head of operations, hadn't been moved over. "He has no experience in Intelligence."

"Come on, Trace. We all know that's not true." Janice was happy to have Tim McGee step in. Maybe he didn't have a whole career spent in Intelligence, but he knew what to do with the reports after they had been written. Most of the analysts here couldn't plan a takedown with a step-by-step guide to help them. She knew McGee had planned and overseen takedowns, as well as been part of them during his time on the MCRT. "He has field experience, and three years at the CTOC. He is more than qualified for this job. Just because he didn't rise through the ranks of Intelligence is no bad thing."

"Yeah, well, I give him six months before he's gone." Tracy Sheridan liked the man from what she remembered about him, but she didn't trust that he could do this job. While she didn't want to see him fail, she wasn't getting her hopes up that he would be as successful as his predecessor.

"I give him six years." Liam had much higher hopes than his colleague.

* * *

Jennifer Shepard walked into the NCIS building feeling very happy. After six months of watching her teams become more and more unhappy, she had finally got the problems resolved. Promotions given and new jobs created had allowed her to create a second MCRT team here at the Navy Yard, along with assigning additional members to certain teams, mainly cyber technicians to each team, who were not rated field agents. This allowed for the field agents to do more field work, and always left someone in the office who could handle all computer and telephone assignments. Over the past three weeks, she had seen a definite boost to morale in this building alone, and reports from the MCRTs worldwide had shown her a similar picture. All she had to do for next year was to get the same budget again, and all MCRTs would have at least three agents, one computer technician, and a probationary agent. When she got out of the elevator, she found Special Agent Gregory Flickman and Officer Ziva David waiting.

"I would thank you for the welcome, but you're not here for me, are you?" Jen knew who they were waiting for.

"He should be here any minute, and we wanted to walk him to his office." Ziva David was very much looking forward to working with Tim again, the two of them having stayed in touch over the past three years.

"We know he's worked here before, but Tim met me at the door on my first day at the CTOC, thought I'd return the favor, Ma'am." Jen remembered the report about the young Special Agent, currently the acting fourth member of MCRT Burley, with Bryn Fillmore taking the SFA position on MCRT Hall. His psychological profiling had been an asset to both the MCRTs and intelligence, providing key insights into terrorists and criminals alike.

"Good to see, Flick. Tell him to try to not upset too many people today." With that, Jen headed for her office, knowing she would have complaints about Tim before the end of the day. His style was not abrasive, but not everyone handled change well, and Tim always changed things when he took over somewhere. Every change he had made at the CTOC and SpecOps had been for the better. God only knows what he had planned for Intelligence.

"What do you think he will do with the office?" Ziva knew Tim had a good eye for interior design, and the huge office for the Head of Intelligence needed some work.

"Knowing Tim it will become an office, conference room and MTAC all in one." Flick was there when the CTOC began its move across to its new home in Jacksonville, and had seen the nearly complete room before his transfer to Washington. "There is no way that room will just be an office." Ziva smiled at the younger man, having kept an eye on him at Tims request.

Like Timothy McGee, Gregory Flickman was highly intelligent and multi-skilled. He spoke four languages, five if you included Latin, had a Bachelors in Psychology and a Masters in Criminology, was a FLETC graduate and an NCIS Special Agent, and was a qualified criminal profiler. Unlike most profilers who worked in a team, Flick worked on his own for other NCIS teams. He provided MCRTs with profiles of murders and rapists, he consulted on cold cases, and more recently, had begun providing profiles on gathered intelligence through graphology and psycholinguistics, the study of handwriting and linguistics. He hoped Tim would keep him as a consultant to the Intelligence section.

"Here he comes." Ziva said this for the fourth time, noticing the change in the floor indicators on the elevator. Would this be fourth time the charm?


	4. Chapter 4

1 week before Agent McGee arrives.

"So, Jenny, who will be your new head of Intelligence?" President Elliot was having her usual once a fortnight briefing with the Navy and NCIS.

"Timothy McGee, Ma'am."

Anna Elliott was best described as a bipartisan Democrat, anti tax cut and anti partial birth abortion. She was a career politician, having served as a congresswoman, senator, under secretary then Secretary of State, and was practically elevated rather than elected to the White House.

"Oh, boy. Is he the only choice?" Jenny was wondering what was happening here, noticing the smiles on the faces of William McGee and Phillip Davenport.

"He's my first choice, and he's the best choice." Jenny was missing something.

"Best choice? That's debatable." Yeah, Jenny was missing something.

"Madam President, please excuse this. Mr. Secretary, Admiral, am I missing something?" Jenny asked, knowing she was.

She got no response to her question, due to both men, both over the age of fifty-five, trying to hold back the laughter, but wearing knowing smirks.

"That's a yes. Anyone going to fill me in?" Jenny asked, not expecting the response.

"Special Agent McGee told me to "stick it" when I was overseeing an NCIS operations six years ago." Anna Elliott still remember that nervous looking agent on her television screen, squaring his shoulders and facing off with her. "That agent was a very green young man, I couldn't believe it was the son of an Admiral who sat on the joint chiefs of staff. When he told me to "stick it", I saw a glimmer of a Navy Admiral."

Admiral McGee and Secretary Davenport were still smiling, having heard Tims version years earlier.

"I remember Tim calling me that night, worried his career was over. I told him not to worry about it, it wasn't as if he had said it to the President of the United States." That was it, the comment that set the two men off laughing.

"Even grown men are boys," scolded the commander-in-chief of the United States Armed Forces. "Having a husband, three boys and no girls, trust me, Director, they grow old but never grow up," directing her scathing look at the two most senior men in the Navy and NCIS. "Is there anyone else that can replace Gloria Tainer?"

Jen decided to see how much the woman would object to Timothy McGee.

"I have reviewed the following personnel to replace Gloria Tainer. Tabitha McGuinness is a possibility, head of the European Section…"

"And offended God knows how many foreign intelligence directors. Next!" demanded the first female president of the United States.

"Graham Neill, head of the Asian Section…"

"A man who can bore a raging hoard at a hundred paces. Next!"

"They are the best two, you want me to go through the rest of the section heads?" Jen asked. By this point, the President was pacing around the Oval.

"OK, Director, Admiral, keep your agent and son in line. That kind of talk is fine for undersecretaries, but not for the President. I want his file as well, the full file, including opinions and emails that weren't included. Thank you." With those words, the three people were dismissed.

"Thank you, Madam President," was said by all three, before leaving the Oval Office. Once outside, the two men let their grins return, while Jen glared at them.

"You didn't think I needed to know that before heading in there. She thinks I've gone crazy." Jen kept her voice low, knowing everyone in this building reported everything said to the Chief of Staff or his deputy.

"Jen, trust me, if she didn't think he could do the job, she would have said so. Believe it or not, the President happens to like people who will stand up to her and tell her she's wrong. But if you don't prove it, then God help you." Admiral McGee saw more of the President than his two friends, seeing her at least three times a week, often more if he was called to the Situation Room.

"Yeah, well, if she can remember the conversation, then so can your son. Do not tell him about this conversation. If he doesn't know who the President is, then he's of no use to me," said Jenny smirking, wondering how the first conversation between the President of the United States and the Head of NCIS intelligence would go.

* * *

Three weeks after Timothy McGees first day.

"Admiral, has the President seen the report from NCIS Intelligence?"

"_Agent McGee, the report is in the Situation Room."_

"Apologies, Admiral, but it is SSA McGee now." Tim needed everything to be official. "Has Agent Metting briefed her personally?"

"_No, he is still sat outside the Situation Room." Admiral McGee was the bearer of bad news._

"Then, who has?" SSA McGee demanded.

"_General Dance, Director Lohman and Director McCord." The heads of NSA, CIA and FBI. "It is my understanding that the three of them have dismissed your report and given the President only their interpretation."_

"Admiral, please inform the President I am on my way." Tim cut the transmission and was on his way out.

"Sheridan, take over on Europe, Tabitha, cover me and let the Director know I'm leaving the building and alert the Secret Service I'm on my way." With those words, Tim was running out of the Intelligence Section, bypassing the elevator, and heading straight for the stairs. He knew he would have a run in with the other agencies, but he did not expect it so soon. Luckily for Tim, as the head of Intelligence for a Federal Intelligence Agency, he had permanent access for the White House and Situation Room. He was going to take advantage of it.

On his drive over, Tim thought about the only conversation he had ever had with Anna Elliott, and his fathers words after it. Jen had told him she remembered it, and Tim only hoped she let him speak when he got there. The thirteen minute journey took him nine, even in the busy traffic, breaking his own rule about speeding in the city. Tim jumped out of the Porsche, spotting Agent Metting waiting for him.

"Tim, Lohman grabbed the report, I didn't..." Metting had been here two weeks, and never briefed the President personally, and the first opportunity was taken away from him.

"You are about to. Conrad, listen to me. Firsts is what gets us seconds and thirds. You are about to have your first meeting with the President of the United States in the Situation Room. Take deep breaths and follow me." Tim strode into the White House, being met by a Navy Lieutenant Commander.

"Sir, Admiral McGee sent me to escort you."

"Do so, quickly." Tim ordered. Lieutenant Commander Moss knew from that voice that this was the son of his boss. Three minutes later, Tim walked into the S.R., ignoring everyone in the room apart from the one woman sat at the table. "Madam President, you are not in possession of all the facts." Time stopped in that room. Dance looked at Lohman, who looked at McCord, who looked at Dance. They were not expecting another McGee in the room. The already present McGee smiled from his position at the right hand of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs.

"I believe you have not yet met Special Agent Conrad Metting," Tim turned slightly to indicate the nervous looking man standing behind him to his left, "Or myself, personally, and I apologize it has to be this way. The NCIS Intelligence report was supposed to have been placed in your hands by Agent Metting, but it seems, others in your employ decided otherwise." Tim looked at the three men directly, jumping feet first into Washington politics. "The NCIS report offers a different option to that of the CIA, NSA and CIA."

"And what would your response be, SSA McGee?" President Elliott, against her best wishes, liked this man right away. Like herself, he had a similar idea, _Sorry if I upset, annoy or irk you, but this needs to be said. Live with it. _

"An extraction team led by the Marine Expeditionary Team on the USS Ronald Reagan, backed up by Seal Team 2. The USS Ronald Reagan has completed a training mission with the Israeli Defence Force and left the Port of Eilat six hours ago. They are still in the Gulf of Aqaba, and will be in the Red Sea in an hour, taking almost twenty four hours to get out of it." Tim knew that the three men did not want NCIS and the Navy getting credit for this. "With the Ronald Reagan where it is and its current compliment, we can carry out the extraction of Husam Min Adala and destroy the training camp without deploying any additional assets."

Anna Elliott was livid. This report should have been given to her an hour ago.

"Mr Chairman, hold everything. Everyone, leave the room. Lohman, McCord, Dance, McGee, stay." Even with two McGees in the room, the father and the son both knew who the President meant. Twenty seconds later, the President let rip.

"I am waiting for an explanation, gentlemen, and if its not a good one, think about resigning." Elliott looked around the room, knowing her answer to anything they said.

"Ma'am…" started Dance, after seconds of silence.

"Stick it!" Earning a smile from SSA McGee, "We go with NCIS on this one. They can get the job done in less than thirty six hours, yours will take at least forty eight." She went in for the kill. "Maybe if you hadn't played politics, trying to make NCIS look bad, your plan would have been given more consideration. You got beat, accept it and move on. For now, get out." With that, Anna Elliott gestured to Timothy McGee to sit at her left, needing a word with the man.

They watched as the three men left, all of them knowing McGee had drawn first blood. Tim was going to have to wait for the returning punches heading his way.

"Ignore them, SSA McGee. Dance and Lohman are still bitter over you not taking jobs with them, McCord just doesn't like NCIS on principle. Tell me, how up to date is your intelligence?"

"The report was updated four hours ago, when the latest intelligence from Djibouti came in. Our people in Djibouti have assets in Yemen, who broadcast on FM radio, it reaches across to a relay station, which broadcasts to a station on the Djibouti coastline. Any intel we get is minutes old, the Ronald Reagan can pick up the intercepts, and we can send them the decryption algorithm."

"SSA McGee, if I gave you the green light, how long do I have before you are in position?"

"Twelve hours, Ma'am. That gives the teams time to get themselves ready, as well as gives the Ronald Reagan time to get further out of the Gulf. By the time the teams have completed their mission and got back, the Ronald Reagan will be approximately seven hours out of Yemeni waters, but still caught between Yemen and Somalia in the gulf of Aden." Tim knew this was where the NCIS plan got tricky. "We can get support from India, along with the UK and France, who all have assets in the region. How much international support have we got the other option?"

"None," the President admitted. "How much inter-agency cooperation did you get on this?" Anna Elliott had read McGees file, knowing he got what he asked for from other agencies.

"Drone and satellite coverage from the NRO, along with communication intercepts from NSA and CIA. I have also have someone listening in from GCHQ and the DGSE."

President Elliott was impressed. He had better relations with other agencies and countries than she did half the time.

"Ma'am, if you want to go ahead with this, SSA Young, head of Operations, will be co-ordinating from NCIS HQ." Tim was not going to step on any more toes today.

"Very well, SSA McGee. You have a green light. Step to it."

"Thank you, Madam President." As she watched him leave, Anna Elliott had some concerns. She wondered if she could cope with two McGees working for her.


	5. Chapter 5

"Where the bloody hell is Adala?" Jenny Shepard was still angry, two weeks after the failed capture of Adala.

"We don't know," Derrick Young admitted, the Head of Operations.

"Tim, what was wrong with your intelligence?" Jenny demanded.

"Adala left the camp approximately one hour after the extraction team had left the Ronald Reagan." Tim was still feeling the repercussions from this failure, mainly the CIA, NSA and the FBI. "According to assets, this was not unusual for him. Like many terrorists, he moves around frequently and sporadically, no one seems to know where he will be next."

"Well, we need to. Anything on his background?"

"Not enough. Fluent in Arabic, Pashto, Farsi, French and English. According to one report, his french and english are perfect, including the accents. We believe he may have been Western educated, but even thats a guess." _More like a wild theory, _Tim thought. "He could have attended an International school. We know nothing of his life before six months ago, all we know he is approximately six foot in height, but no other physical descriptions. He keeps himself shrouded, and when in public, speaks through an intermediary. His style of dress may be intentional, we have images of a group of men,all of similar height, wearing the same outfit. They move quickly and you could easily lose track of who is who. We think thats what happened in Yemen."

"What about known associates?"

"This is where we found something out. Adala and his men aren't really a part of Al-Qaeda, they are their own group who have allied themselves with them." This had taken some digging by his staff.

"Are they a rogue group?" Terrorists were bad enough, but a splinter cell from one of them tended to be even worse.

"No, they seem to attach themselves to larger organizations to hide. They call themselves Atfaal Min Itar, translated, the Children of Vengeance. And the name is no surprise." Tim was very worried about this group when he heard the name. "Nearly every confirmed member of the group has had relatives die, either for the Jihad, or by ourselves or our allies."

"Are they in this for the Jihad, or retribution?" Young knew terrorists were always driven by something. When they were driven by revenge, coupled with religious zealousness, they became the most dangerous of all.

"A combination of both," Tim said, giving voice to the real fears of all in the room. "Thats why I asked Flick to join us today. He's been going over the intel and has a psych profile for us. I warn you, its not good."

Gregory Flickman had delivered many behavioural profiles since his posting to HQ over the last eightteen months, but this was the most troubling.

"This profile is different to most you will have ever read. There is not enough known about each individual member of the group, so I profiled them as a whole. Tim's right, its not good."

"On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being 9/11, how bad is it?" Jen asked, needing a focus point.

"At least an 11." Jen felt herself pale, wondering how bad this report was. "Atfaal Min Itar have nothing left to lose. Most of them have no parents, and not many more have relatives of any kind. They are made up of people from all across the Middle East and Asia. Due to drone strikes and extractions, none have homes to go to, their lives there are gone."

"Are they suicide bombers then?" Young interrupted.

"Yes, but not in the way you think. They will die for the Jihad, but they will take as many as of us with them as they can. They have had opportunities to take out American, British and French troops, and haven't done so. They show restraint, and when needed, subservience to a greater force." Flick was about to deliver the most damning aspect of his report. "They will die for the Jihad, and they will do so in the most epic way possible. They will stage an attack more devastating than 9/11, in both size and impact. They will do so when we least expect it, and we will not be able to stop them."

"Greg, surely you exaggerate, these people are in the middle of nowhere." Derrick Young always erred on the side of caution, but not to this extreme.

"I wish he was, but he's right. Out of the nine confirmed members of AMI, all have lost parents, and only two have family members closer than a second cousin. These nine never go home, not even to the countries they are from, almost as if being there hurts too much." Tim wondered if something like that happened to him, if he would leave the US and never come back. "They have no children, no wives, no other life than this. They will hurt us, soon and painfully. We need to be ready. We need to take them out, soon. We are preparing a report for Derrick, in the hopes of a wide scale operation, taking out as many of them as we can in one fell swoop, cutting off as much of the head as possible."

"Thats fine, Tim, but what about Adala? He's the leader." Jen knew he was a big problem on his own.

"Leaders need followers, Director, without any, his power weakens. Al-Qaeda didn't weaken when Bin Laden went into hiding or was killed, the same will happen with the AMI. Take out the followers first, then Adala. Without his Inner Circle, he would have to move about, speak to people directly, change his plans. This might not stop the attack altogether, but it could slow them down enough."

"Or it could anger them more and they attack indiscriminately." Young did not like taking chances, especially with terrorists who had nothing to lose.

"With less people they need to do more work. More work means more time, they need more time to plan, we have more time to prepare." This was not Tims first disagreement with Young, and it wouldn't be the last. Tim knew Young was very good at his job, his reticence was his way of not risking lives.

"Or they turn into a cornered animal, and they lash out at the nearest thing to them." Yong countered. Shepard listened to the two sides of the argument, weighing up the pros and cons of each argument. In this case, both men were correct.

"Gentlemen, I hate to say it, but you are both right. This is what we are going to do, Tim, we need more intel, more focused and as current as you can get. Assign someone to cover the Yemen/Somalia/Djibouti desk, we need it covered 24/7. Derrick, start planning the op, we take as many as we can in one night, keep it contained, use as many local assets as possible. I want them in custody soon, you both have ten days from now. Thank you." Jen watched as the three men gathered their briefing books and notes, heading for the door, watching as Tim and Flick tried to include Derrick in the conversation. Jen knew the Head of Operations hadn't got used to not dealing with Gloria Tainer. Jen smiled, remembering the meeting between herself, Gloria and Tim.

_Flashback_

"_Gloria, meet your replacement, Tim, meet the shoes you have to fill." Jen was looking forward to this meeting, she had pencilled it in as the highlight of her week._

"_Size 8.5, somehow, they might be a bit small for your cruise liners, Timothy." Gloria Tainer had a devastating wit, one that most people couldn't match._

"_Size 14, but then again, we know what they say about men with big shoes," Tim grinned at the living legend. He had gotten some pointers from his dad about this meeting._

"_Large socks," Gloria rejoined, enjoying the young mans response. "Well, so far so good, Director. Lets see what else he's got."_

"_Lets sit for this, shall we?" Jen was glad the two were getting along, knowing these transitions were often painful, only made easier when the outgoing made the incoming welcome._

"_Timothy, what will you change about Intelligence when you take over?" Gloria got straight to the point, refusing to dance around the issues._

"_Seating arrangements, for one thing. Everyone looks at the back of someones head, right now. If they can see other people, they will feel they are part of a team more, and will be willing to work together to solve any problems that come up." Tim was not backing down on this point._

"_Good reasoning, I can accept that change. What about the Section Heads?"_

"_I'm not firing any of them. They are all good at their jobs, and their dedicated. I'm not about to waste good people." Tim had reviewed the Section Heads, along with senior analysts._

"_Any personnel you think you might have a problem with?" This was the Director, knowing the problems he had with Amanda Ryan, Christopher Best and Anthony DiNozzo._

"_Not from the outset, no. I know some people might have problems with me but that's their issue, not mine. As long as it doesn't stop them doing the task at hand, their jobs are safe." Tim had only fired one person since leaving the MCRT, and he didn't want to keep adding to that tally._

"_So far, Jen, I'm liking this guy. OK, Tim, I'll do the official handover next week, but here's some unofficial advice. Lay down your authority at the first opportunity, both inside and outside the building." This advice would come in handy. "As the Head of Intelligence, you have walk in privileges for the White House and the Situation Room. Use it, do not always rely on the NCIS liaison to the White House to get your point across. Let them present the report to the President, but when it come to the Presidents decision, make sure you are in the room, to either accept the Presidents nod to get the job done, or sit their graciously and accept the praise given to the CIA or the FBI." Gloria had done this many times._

"_I have to meet the President?" Tim asked, his worry shining through._

"_That a problem, Tim? Never took you as a Republican." Gloria wondered what the problem with Anna Elliott was._

"_Tim, it will be fine." Jen reassured him._

"_Easy for you to say, Ma'am. You didn't square off with her."_

"_You went head to head with Anna Elliott?" Gloria asked, her respect growing for her successor._

"_Yeah." Tim said meekly._

"_Did you win?" Watching his nod, Gloria smiled. "Good for you, there are not that many people that can say that about their disagreements with the President, that's including her time before the White House."_

"_Maybe, but I was a junior agent who turned to the then Under-Secretary of State and said "stick it"." Gloria laughed, she couldn't help it._

"_Excellent, keep that in mind when you get into a four way fight with the CIA, FBI and NSA. General Dance favours them both, and Lohman and McCord went to Yale together. They have their own little circle, I suggest you find yours with others from the Security Council."_

"_Gloria, as I can see you and Tim are getting on, can I ask that I have my office back. I thought I might be needed to mediate, instead, I'm a spectator. Show him your office, let the staff see him."_

"_Of course, Jen. Come on, Tim, we'll have a brandy to celebrate your new job." For a woman three months away from her seventy first birthday, she showed all the energy and movement of a woman Jens age. She was halfway across the room before Tim had finished standing._

"_Thank you, Director," Tim said before moving._

"_At least one of them has manners," Jen said to the empty room, "For now."_


	6. Chapter 6

Six weeks later

_Hi, Tim,_

_We all miss you, Kei and Ric too, even if they don't say it. How's the new job? Worse than the old one? How many meetings do you have to sit through? LOL!_

_Just to let you know we are all ok, Ric and Maggie are still together, Kei is still flirting with pretty girls, and even went out on Friday as Xanders wingman. Trust me, Kei loves it when the men hit on him, said it makes him feel loved. Like he ever has a problem with that. The "Ladies Circle" still meet at least once a week, and, yes, we all miss your apartment for weekend drinks._

_Talk soon,_

_Amanda_

Tim had read the email several times now, having sent his response as soon as he had got the email. He was happy to know the team was doing fine, especially Xander. If Kei was his best friend and loved him like a brother, then Xander was the littlest brother, the one everyone looked out for. As much as he missed his team, he loved his new job, and seeing his parents at least once a week. He hadn't realised how much he missed them until he was seeing them every week again.

"Tim, I'm home," shouted Cassie, coming through the door.

"Hey," Tim got up from the sofa, "how are you?" Moving to take the bags from her hands, kissing her as he did so. "Did you get the steaks?"

"Yes, the man at the market said he had given you the leanest rib-steaks he had, along with the freshest tomatoes for grilling."

"Gotta love Luigi, he knows his food."

"He should for that price."

"Trust me, Cass, you have no problem with his food. Where do you think the lamb came from?" Tim asked, smiling.

Cassie thought back to that first weekend, she thought sometimes she could still smell the lamb in the apartment, along with the garlic and rosemary. The meat had been so tender and lean, no gristle in it, barely any fat on the edges. "OK, point made. I need a shower before we eat." With that, Cassie headed into the bedroom, where she would undress before getting in the power shower in the ensuite. Tim watched as she walked away, his love for the woman filling him with warmth.

_BBBBBBBUUUUUUUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ_

Tim recognized the message coming through on his work Blackberry. Grabbing it, he read the message.

_Please report to S.R immediately._

"Damn, guess I'm not cooking," following Cassie into the bedroom, "Sorry, sweetheart, got to go. If you need me, call the White House." Those eight words meant "Contact me in an emergency, otherwise it will have to wait."

"No steak, then. Takeout it is." Cassie was not the best cook in the world, and after seeing what Tim could do in the kitchen, she felt even worse about her culinary skills. She could help peel and cut up the vegetables, or even toss the salad, but other than that, Tim was in charge of the food. "You want me to order you something?"

"No, I'll probably be there late, I'll pick something up on my way back." Tim was changing out of his sweats and t shirt, into one of his suits, forgoing the tie for now.

"Hey," Cassie calling him back, moving to kiss him. "Be safe, I love you." Her lips met his, always worrying about him when this happened.

"I will, I love you." She watched as Tim left, hating this fact. Tim always came home worried, having advised the President on a course of action, and worried about the men and women enacting his proposal. To Tim, these men and women had lives and family, for others they were numbers, nameless soldiers carrying out orders. Cassie moved to get in the shower, knowing she would try and stay awake until her man got home.

* * *

Tim moved through the White House, heading downstairs into the Situation Room. He had passed a group of people being shown around. more than likely staffers families or party contributors. At this time of night, most of the junior staff and nearly all the interns had left leaving only the senior staffers, their assistants and a handful of people manning the offices. Tim could walk through the corridors without meeting anybody. As he approached the doors to the Sit Room, he noticed the doors open, and very little sound reach them. This made him worried. Walking into the room, he believed he had reason to worry. "The Circle" was waiting for him.

"Sorry to get you in at this time of night, but we need to brief you on a development." Dance looked at his two cohorts, noticing the attention they were paying everything but himself and McGee.

"What kind of development?"

"A CIA prisoner has escaped Federal custody, and his whereabouts are unknown."

"OK."

"We have reason to suspect he will be coming to DC."

"Thanks for the heads-up, but why bring me here to tell me that?" Tim wondered what the hell was going on.

"The prisoner in question is Michael DeLa Tour." Tim felt his stomach drop to his feet, his pulse began to race.

"What?" Tim barked, feeling his anger rising. "When the bloody hell did this happen?" Dance looked at Lohman, letting him deliver the bad news.

"A month ago." Lohman wondered how the young man would take it, he wished he didn't have to find out.

"**A month?" was the explosive response. "A man who had access to some of the most sensitive intelligence about organized crime around the world has been running around this country for a month? How did this happen?"**

McCord answered, willing to shoulder his share of the blame. "He escaped with the help of an FBI agent, one who we now know is in the same kind of extra work as DeLa Tour. They escaped together, the agent reported in on schedule for the first three days. Yvette Rhodes and Jack Chapman had been sent to escort him from the CIA holding facility in Kansas to Washington for a further debriefing, when, at some point, Rhodes was killed."

"Murdered, Director, murdered. Killed is when you have no other choice." McGee was livid. in his report, he had warned them that DeLa Tour would have friends, that he would not be the only agent doing this sort of work, and that he should never be transported unless absolutely necessary. "Why were there only two agents assigned to transport him?"

"We believed that he no longer posed a threat like before. He was cuffed at the wrists and feet, with chains connecting them at the front and back. We didn't anticipate being betrayed." McCord and Lohman were both embarrassed by this, letting an NCIS captured traitor escape.

"Who has been informed of this? Please tell me the CTOC has been told?" Tim looked between the three men.

"We made the decision to keep this in house," Dance said. "Tim, think how this will look to the public." Tim was astonished this man would think about that first.

"Think about what it will look like when these two men start killing members of the public who get in their way." Tim was already thinking about security, not for himself, but everyone around him. "We need increased security at Mayport Naval Base, as well as on the members of the CTOC. Also, the Navy Yard, the Secretary, Director Shepard and my father. Better include Stan Burley as well."

"Why all those people, McGee? Do you know what will happen when the increased security gets noticed?" Lohman believed the man would get out of the country, if he hadn't already.

"The CTOC is where we were assigned when he was captured. He knows the base. The other four people all witnessed the capture. He told me he would destroy me, that he has friends I don't know about. As he escaped from your custody with help previously unknown, we know that part is true." Tim was needing to get home, he had to inform Cassie. "My God, what is wrong with you three? Have you told the President?"

"Yes, Tim, they informed me an hour ago. Trust me, there will be consequences to their actions." Anna Elliott walked into the room, having followed behind SSA McGee, her face showing nothing, inside she was very angry with three people and concerned about a fourth. "The security on the base is being increased, we've told them there has been some increased chatted about navy bases, we've done the same for all on the East Coast. Agent Burley has been informed about a threat to his life, and has agreed to personal security."

"Well, lets hope that none of these people have been watched for the last month," Tim said sarcastically.

"Tim, remember when you had that talk with me?" Anna Elliott, smirked at Tim, hoping he caught on. Seeing his nod, she continued. "Wanna say something similar now?"

"No, Ma'am, I'll be alright." The President was shocked, most people would have loved to have the Presidents permission to yell at the men in charge of the NSA, CIA and FBI. "I was always taught never to argue with idiots, they will drag you down to their level and beat you with experience," his eyes moving between the three men.

"Why, you little…" Started Lohman.

"Finish that sentence, and you can write your resignation, now." The President was not going to let these three have a go at a man whose life they had just upended. "Tim, thank you for coming in, if you need anything, have any concerns, call me, if I can't speak to you, ask for Russell, he'll know to take your call."

Anna Elliott was practically giving the man a direct line to herself, but she felt he needed it. She was not going to allow someone he had already caught ruin his life. Like the Director of NCIS she knew the man in front of her was going places. Apart from the reports she had read, the two meetings she had had with him over Atfall Min Itar and Adala told her everything she needed to know about the man.

"Thank you, Madam President." Tim threw the three men another look, before leaving. As the doors closed behind him, he heard the President start speaking.

"Anyone like to remind me why you three still have jobs?" As much as he wanted to listen, he need to get home to Cassie more.

_Authors note: I am building McGees apartment, slowly. Please click the link below_

_pinterest dot com slash Mcgeeismyfave slash_


	7. Chapter 7

Two weeks after, four weeks before the explosion

"How has your anger been, this last week, Tim?" Dr. Jay Block asked. As he had taken Tim on as a patient, he had been granted clearance to listen to all of Tims problems, otherwise Tim would not have been able to get the full benefits of the therapy he had requested.

"It has been fine, until I see one of them three idiots." Tim was still very angry with Dance, Lohman and McCord. "I haven't lost control all week, unless I choose to let go."

"That's good, Tim. How and when are you choosing to let go?" Tim had lost control at a National Security Council meeting, screaming at the three men, and almost the President herself. With the threat on his life, the life of his girlfriend, along with numerous friends, no one held his outburst against.

"Through my workouts. The Marine PTs put me up against marines and we fight until I'm exhausted, or until I feel better, it's normally fatigue that wins," Tim said.

"OK, Tim, you are doing it the right way, focussing your anger, and letting it out consciously, rather than bottling it up and letting loose without realising it. However, I'm concerned about your method." Tim looked at Jay, wondering where this was going. "How long do you think you will stay angry? We both know some people are never arrested, we never catch them. How long will you put your life on hold for this man?"

"If he's not caught, God only knows what kind of damage he will do to NCIS and to the country." Did this man not realise who they were talking about, Tim thought.

"That's not your job, Tim, or your concern. Let others do their job, you do your job. If you let yourself be distracted, you will make mistakes. You told me he threatened to destroy you, well, he's doing a good job without even being in the city."

"What the hell does that mean?" Tim snapped.

"You are imploding, Tim. Your anger is distracting you. You spend more time at work, more time at the gym, less at home. You have a girlfriend, you have hobbies. When was the last time you went to the theatre? Had friends or family over? Cooked for pleasure rather than necessity?"

"Your point?" Tim growled.

"He's winning, right now, as we speak. He's not the one in therapy, he's god knows where right now, probably living it up thanks to a bank account we don't about. Even if he is planning something, he knows we will be using facial recognition at stations and ports to catch him." Jay hoped his bluntness got through to the man. "He had three days to get out the country before anyone noticed anything. The chances are, he headed to a country we don't have an extradition treaty with, and will lead a very nice life. While you sit here, and watch your life crumble while you focus on the wrong things."

"So its wrong to want to catch a traitor?" Tim was getting angry.

"At the cost of your mental well being, physical health, your career and your girlfriend, you are damn right, its wrong!" Jay shouted.

This worked. Tim sat back, shocked. This was the first time Jay had ever raised his voice at him, even though he warned him about the "tough love" approach he sometimes took with the most stubborn patients he had.

"My God, Tim! Your job is Head of Intelligence, NCIS! Your life is Cassie! That SOB is not your responsibility! He's Interpols! He's the FBIs and CIAs! You don't have to fix everything! You don't have to clean up everyones mistakes!" Jay hoped this method worked, his others had failed.

Tim sat there in shock, hearing this from the normally quietly spoken man hitting him like a sledgehammer.

"You would have to give up your job, and probably sleep, to clean up after every agent who has screwed up somewhere in their career! You want to know your screw up, Tim? I'll tell you! Not killing him! Shooting him in the knee cap rather than between the eyes! That's yours mistake!" Jay took a deep breath, getting himself back under control. Tim had done good work, but was only addressing his symptoms, rather than the disease.

Jay watched as Tim processed everything that was yelled at him, Jay regretting having to do it this way, but after three sessions over the last three weeks, helping Tim deal with everything, from Adala to this, Jay realised Tim was not used to failure, or at least, things not going his way. The two men sat in silence, one in self reflection, one in observation, both thinking deeply. The silence continued for the next few minutes, broken only by the sound of breathing. Jay watched as realisation hit Tim, he just hoped it didn't break him.

"I'm not responsible for his actions. I don't control the CIA and FBI. I have to let it go." There it was, the truth of the matter. Tim could only blame himself for his own mistakes, not someone elses.

"Glad you realise it," Jays tone much softer than before. "It's natural to be angry about the situation, but taking on the responsibility to resolve it, to shoulder someone elses burden and blame is not. How do you feel, now, remember, emotional and physical."

"Better, I feel lighter, and, sounds stupid, but like I can breathe easier. I still angry, but that is about the man generally, not the situation." Tim admitted.

"I can accept that, Tim. The anger will fade, acceptance and time will deal with it. But, you need to take your life back. Go to the theatre, spend time with Cassie, cook, do something other than work and worry. Like I said, I don't do medication if I can help it, but here's your prescription." Tim wondered what this would be. "Bake cupcakes, muffins, heck, a chocolate cake, but something for your staff. They will have felt your anger and frustration even if you haven't directed it at them. OK?" Jay hoped the baking would help him relax and help repair some bridges the last week had damaged.

"Yeah, that I can do. Thanks, Jay." Tim hoped people could forgive him for the last week.

"Same time next week, Tim. You have a lot of responsibility with your job, and with the current situation, I want to see you once a week until I feel that you are coping better than you have been." Jay wasn't as worried as he made out, but he'd rather Tim took his frustrations out in here, than on some poor junior analyst who said something Tim didn't like.

"Got it." Tim accepted this, hoping he would have good news over the next couple of weeks.

* * *

Later that night.

Cassie inhaled deeply, smelling apple cinnamon muffins in the air. She knew what that smelt meant, Tim was baking. She smiled, her man had barely cooked in two weeks, and when he had, it had been plain food without the normal flair he put into it. She wondered what was for dinner tonight. Opening the door, Cassie saw the worktop before she saw the chef.

"What the hell…" the kitchen looked like a cake shop. There were tupperware boxes stacked on top of each other, filled with muffins, along with cookies and what looked like a chocolate cake with vanilla icing. "Tim, please tell me you are doing a bake sale?" Cassie had no clue what had gotten into her boyfriend.

"Well, I'm baking, but I'm not selling the cakes, I'm giving them away." Tim moved to kiss his girlfriend, but was stopped by the hand raised in front of his face.

"Your lips touch mine when they are not dusted with flour, sugar and who knows what else." Cassie could see the difference in him, he seemed happier and less troubled than when she had seen him leave the apartment that morning. "Is dinner in here somewhere?" she asked, hoping not to order takeout again.

"Yeah, butterfly chicken with a cajun sauce, wedges and pan fried vegetables." Cassie smiled, glad to have her boyfriend back.

"How long until everything is cooked, including the cakes, muffins and what not?"

"The chicken will be another forty minutes, the wedges and veggies won't take ten minutes." Tim turned around, to carry on preparing more muffin mix.

"Well, I'm getting in the shower, and if you want to kiss me anytime soon, I suggest you join me." Tim hadn't quite heard Cassie, but as he saw her undressing on her way into the bedroom, he quickly caught on to her suggestion. Putting the chicken on the timer, he moved quickly.

They ate dinner late that night.

_Authors note: McGees place can be found at_

_pinterest com/ Mcgee is my fave/_

_lose the spaces, and include the ._


	8. Chapter 8

"So, you and Bryn, huh?" Tim asked, wondering what had happened there.

"Yeah, almost three months, and trust me, now I know why Rule 12 was invented." Jimmy admitted, smiling when he said it.

"Rules are made to be broken?" Tim offered.

"You really believe that?" Jimmy countered, smiling, as he and Tim walked back to the yard. As they didn't see each other as much, the two men popped out for coffee at least twice a week to catch up. It also gave them both a break they normally needed. Jimmy was now in his transitional year, with only four months to go before he fully qualified as a Doctor, having completed his degree eight months earlier.

"Well, maybe not, but bend it, sure. Me and Cassie make it work, both NCIS, but don't work together. With a little effort, you can forget about work, and focus on life." Tim was may have been channelling his therapist, but, good advice is good advice.

"Yeah, but you and Cassie are in different buildings, I see her twice a day when we have a case. I just don't want to bring my personal life into work with me." Tim knew what he was getting at, he didn't want to take work home with him.

"So, create rules for work. Maybe, no first names, or no seeing each other outside of the case. And at home, no work talk, not even if it was an easy case. Keep NCIS away from your date nights." Tim was in the same boat, he and Cassie made the rule they could talk about actual work for no more than fifteen minutes each, but about work colleagues was unlimited.

"Easier said than done. I get to leave earlier than she does, and she still gets in before me. We barely have any time together, just weekends, when neither of us is on call, and I'm not studying." Jimmy thought Rule 12 wasn't invented to stop problems if a relationship turned sour, it was stop the pain that came with not being able to be with the person. The job just didn't leave enough time for the two of them to be themselves.

"Then make the time, find some way to get home early, or come in late, get food delivered or pick it up on the way home, but find a way. Trust me on this." Unlike Cassie, Tim could delegate to a lot more than two people and a cyber tech. He often delegated basic duties to less senior analysts, allowing the staff that had been there the longest to take on the more serious and complicated matters. Tim still did everything his job required and more, but he was also helping to delegate certain matters to allow the analysts to develop. "Tell Bryn, she's the SFA now, delegate, we have a night staff, use them, I do." Tim had developed a good relationship with Ellie Bishop at the NSA, a senior analyst on the night staff. She collated and sent over relevant info for immediate review, allowing the night staff to work fresh intel, rather than constantly going over old reports.

"She doesn't want to boss people around, her position is still only temporary."

"If she wants it to become permanent, she has to assert her authority. This is just doing her job, solving crimes, using all available resources to do it. If the night staff say no, tell her to go to Rick Hall, explain the situation, and get him to drag their asses in line. The next time she tells them to do something, they will."

"Yeah, that might work. How did you get so good at this, Tim?" Jimmy asked, proud of how his friend had turned out.

"Good at what?"

"Leading, giving advice, offering support. Not being rude or anything, but you didn't get it from Gibbs or DiNozzo, I saw the way they worked." Jimmy loved this new McGee, and wanted to know how he was created.

"They both could lead, they both gave advice and they both offered support. The problem they had was the way they showed it. They just did it in the only way they knew how. Thanks to the CTOC, I've had three probie agents, along with senior agents to develop into SFAs. What works with one, doesn't work with them all." Tim had learned that the hard way, when his approach with Flick didn't work as well as it had with Xander. "I've learnt to change the curriculum to suit the student. Talking of which, I have a class to teach in ten minutes."

"What? You got another job?"

"Sort of, Jen has asked me to give a talk on inter-agency cooperation. I prefer to call it "How not to hurt the FBI!"."

"Who's in the class?"

"Probationary agents and analysts, two years experience and under. The Director feels that my work with CTOC and SpecOps will be invaluable in showing, and I quote, "The necessity of being a willing partner in a mutually beneficial relationship." If you ask me, we don't need this class, the FBI does." Tim knew the FBI were too proud most times to ask for help. He'd seen that with both Gibbs and himself.

"Well, let me know if you need to put anyone in detention, Professor. They can come down and clean the beds." Jimmy was glad he and Tim were still friends, even after the events of six years ago.

"Well, anyone throwing paper planes or talking when I am, will end up with you after class." Tim and Jimmy walked into the Navy Yard, Tim checking his BlackBerry. "Yeah, I gotta teach." Tim was half hoping for something else to do.

"The way you were speaking, I thought you wanted to do this."

"I do, I quite like teaching, its different to anything else I do, but when I'm teaching probies they want to learn. Jen is sending me these guys whether they want to be there on not."

"Well, good luck to you, Professor McGee. See you at football practice." Jimmy raised his coffee in salute, before walking towards Autopsy.

"SSA McGee, could I have a word, please?" Tim stopped at these words, being confronted with a man who was being eyed up by some the some of the women walking into the building.

"Hello, can I help you?" With DeLa Tour still at large, McGee was very suspicious of strangers, even in the NCIS building.

"I certainly hope so, Sir." Tim may not know this guy, but he hated that last word, he even heard the capital S.

"McGee is fine, I have never been knighted to my knowledge. What's your name and what do you need?" Tim asked, indicating with his hand to keep walking.

"I'm Special Agent Brent Langer, with the FBI, formerly NCIS. I was hoping to discuss with you the possibility of transferring back to NCIS." McGee glanced at the man, and kept walking.

"Agent Langer, I'd be happy to help, but I'm not the guy to speak to."

"Both Director Shepard and Deputy Director Vance said you were."

This stopped McGee in his tracks. He felt like something was at play again.

"Why speak to me?" Tim asked, cautiously.

"With my special agent status, along with my experience and GL status, I outrank nearly everyone currently on MCRTs, the only people in the building I don't are the Director, Heads of Department and Heads of Sections."

"Well, that's great, but you are still making little sense." Tim was growing impatient, moving for the stairs.

"Director Shepard said to speak to you about openings in Intelligence and the CTOC." This once again stopped Tim.

"I'm in the middle of a thousand things right now, Agent Langer. Be here at 1800 hours, and we can discuss it further, OK?" Tim was on the move, the BlackBerry being tapped at, sending out emails on the go.

"Thank you, Sir." Agent Langer called out.

"Call me Sir at 1800 hours, and I tell you nothing about anything." Tim was climbing the stairs to the Intelligence Section, almost late for the lecture.

* * *

_Flash Forward_

"_You need to take command there, we can't get anyone else to you right now."_

"_What do you need us to do?" _

"_Double and triple check everything. The city is in lockdown. Nothing in or out. Roadblocks are everywhere. They are here, find them, everything has to come through the Citadel."_


	9. Chapter 9

"Do you know I'm watching?" McGee looked around his conference table. "That's what goes through my mind when I see him. Does he know we are watching and listening to him?"

Tim looked at Mark O'Neill, the head of the Middle East desk, before shifting his gaze to look at the rest of the Section Heads.

"It's been eight weeks since the failed extraction, and Adala is still out there. Tell me we have something new." Silence met that response. "Reach out to your contacts in other agencies, go global if you have to. I want more information on this man before next weeks meeting. Thank you." Tim watched as the seven people left his office, noticing a man sitting outside, waiting for him. "Agent Langer," Tim called, "Come on in."

"Thank you, SSA McGee." _It's better than Sir, _Tim thought.

"Tim will be fine, or, if you prefer, McGee. Am I OK to call you Brent?" Seeing the nod, Tim continued, "Brent, I've reviewed your file, and I can tell you with utmost certainty, you will not get a posting to the CTOC." Tim watched as his face dropped. "Don't worry, it's nothing to do with your record, it's stellar. You don't have enough language skills, you speak fluent Spanish, some Portuguese and French. The CTOC needs people who are fluent in at least three languages, that's not including English. Sorry."

"That's ok, I knew that was a long shot. But what about Intelligence."

"Before we get to that, why do you want to come back to NCIS?" Tim asked, wondering why a man who had spent the last ten years in the Bureau wanted a transfer out.

"I never wanted to join the FBI. I was attached to a joint FBI/ATF/NCIS task force dealing with arms smugglings, eightteen months later, I was transferred over, permanently."

"Let me guess, this was when NCIS had a limited number of people who could be special agents." With how small NCIS used to be, the amount of people who could hold Special Agent status was limited, due to the cost of paying them, as well as maintaining the standards of each individual.

"Yeah, so it was either come back to NCIS and work my way back up again, or stay, and keep going forward. So, I stayed. Now that the cap on agents has gone, I want back." Tim was impressed, most people would have just stayed with the FBI, kept climbing the ladder.

"I'm gonna be blunt, I have no openings for section heads or team leaders right now. I wish I could use you, but the Intelligence Section is full." Tim regretted turning the man down, but there was nothing he could do.

"Then why did the Director send me down here, Sir?" There was that word again. "She said you would find something for me to do, that you always used good people."

"Stop!" Tim commanded, his memory recalling Rule 5: Don't waste good. "I need to make a call. Stay there." Tim picked up the phone on his desk, pressing only one button. Waiting no more than two seconds, Tim began speaking. "Hey, it's Tim, any chance of a quick conversation?... I just need two minutes…. Please, it's very important… Thank you… I have Brent Langer in my office….I don't have an opening for him….Where will I put him?...Are you sure?... Ok then."

Brent Langer disliked being talked about, especially when he was still in the room. Hearing only half of the conversation concerning his future, that was just detestable. Watching as SSA McGee put the phone down, he hoped he had a job.

"Right now, your application is still pending, awaiting further review. As Head of Intelligence, the review can be conducted in a number of ways. Tell me, Brent, what do you know of Husam Min Adala?"

"He's the leader of Atfaal Min Itar, the Children of Vengeance. His name means the Sword of Justice. He is currently one of NCIS' Top Ten most wanted, and, from what I've heard, the guys like smoke, just disappears into thin air." Brent Langer had familiarised himself with the Top Ten, just in case questions came up. "He seems to be very good at recruiting young men, languages and nationalities seem to be no boundaries for the man."

"Good, you know the basic bio. You will soon know a lot more about him. The Director has given me permission to use you as I see fit. So, this is what we will do. Starting tomorrow, 0800 hours, you report to me, and I'll hand over everything we have on the man, videos, audio, transcripts, all the intelligence, along with the reviews. You will have five days to be an expert on the man. I want your take on what he is planning, how he will do it, and where he will be next."

"I'm to do all that in five days?"

"Trust me, our intelligence is not as much as it sounds. I can give you two analysts, neither from the Middle East desk, I want fresh eyes on this. Think you can give me something I haven't heard about the man?" Tim didn't want to see him fail, he wanted to see if the man thought differently than the current Section Heads and Team Leaders.

"I can definitely try, Sir." Tim was going to shoot him if he said that word again.

"Rule 1- Sir is not my title. Sir is a term of address for a male head of state, for men in the armed forces, or men knighted by the Queen of England, I'm none of the above. Tim or McGee is fine, you can use SSA when there are others. understood?" Tim really hated being called Sir.

"Got it...McGee." Langer stood when Tim did.

"I'll have a desk set up for you in the morning, see you at 0800 hours." Tim offered his hand to the man, hoping he hadn't made a mistake.

"Thank you for the opportunity, McGee. See you in the morning." Langer left the office, feeling much better than he did before entering it, though unsure if he wanted to learn a new list of rules.

Tim hoped he hadn't made an error on the man. Langer had been a probationary under Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, the same as himself, Stan Burley and Tony DiNozzo. Gibbs had gotten it right with Stan, sometimes right with himself, and in Tims mind, completely screwed up with DiNozzo. After ten years with the FBI, Tim was hopeful Gibbs had gotten it right with Langer, otherwise, Tim worried he'd have another DiNozzo on his hands.

* * *

24 Hours later.

"McGee, we've got something." Langer burst into Tims office, startling Tim who was munching on an apple, almost choking.

"Please tell me it's not contagious." Tim wondered what had gotten the man so excited. He had only been on the job for ten hours, so Tim reminded himself to let the man down gently, the first reviews were always the same.

"Me, Laura and Mickey have been going over the audio and video footage of the meeting of the AMI inner circle meetings. We spotted it on the footage that came in, six weeks ago."

"Brent, take a breath, let some oxygen in." Tim worried the man was going to have some sort of attack in his office. Watching the man take some deep breaths, Tim offered the seat next to him on the small sofa. "OK, when you are ready." Tim really hoped the man wasn't hoping to solve it straight away.

"For some reason he went back to Somalia, according to Intelligence, they never figured out why."

"Yeah, we thought it strange. He never stays in one place very long, and to our knowledge, he has never visited the same place in the same six months."

"Yeah, well, what if he had never been there?" Langer let the question hang.

"OK, I'm lost, so you may have to explain from the beginning." Tim didn't know where this line of thought was going, but he would let the newest member of his team explain himself.

"We did some comparing of the footage over the last seven weeks, compared to the footage previously. Even with the robes they wear, and the scarves around the face and head, the one thing that doesn't get covered up is their height." Tim was now racing to catch up with the man. "We have confirmed certain key players in the villages and camps, and by comparing the oldest videos to the newest ones, Husam Min Adala has had a growth spurt of about five inches." Langer was now smiling at Tim. "Even if he was wearing boots, or lifts in his shoes, five inches is way too much. Plus, anyone not accustomed to the height would have trouble walking, this guy doesn't."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"Either we've been following the wrong man for the last seven weeks, or Husam Min Adala is eating the same things as Alice does in Wonderland. The guy has shot up by five inches, there is no doubt, according to the video forensics."

"OK. So either Big Adala has killed off Little Adala, or…?"

"Or, Little Adala was the decoy. Sent in to assure loyalty of the followers, before the real guy goes in to meet with them himself. Either way, we have two people needing tracking."

"Yeah, but we now know where he is going. Compare the visits of Big Adala and Little Adala, see where they have both been, and where Big Adala will be going next. We might be able to catch him somewhere." Tim was moving to his desk, needing to make a phone call, "Brent, whether this gets him or not, I'll make it happen somehow, but you've got yourself a job." Watching the man smile, Tim hit him with the bad news, "Now, I need the complete report in an hour, no more than ninety minutes. Go." Tim ordered, pressing the speed dial for Jennifer Shepard. The man might not have solved it, but he and two agents had spent ten hours on the intelligence and gotten further than himself, and an entire section of NCIS Intelligence.


	10. Chapter 10

_Warning: SHOCK TWIST IN THE STORY_

Two weeks before the explosion

"Where are we on the Adala brothers?" She asked, liking the name given by the NCIS team dedicated to their capture.

"We have six teams located around the globe, all within hours of being able to reach different terrorist training camps. These camps are currently under drone and satellite surveillance." Langer was very nervous in this meeting, Tim was sat next to him on the large three person sofa.

"How long do you think before they are both in custody?" The President asked NCIS' newest employee.

"We want both of them, but our main priority has to be Big Adala." Langer and his now four team members had analysed every scrap of intelligence and come up with an operation. "Once he has visited a training camp, the terrorists begin increased training, as well as plans to move. We are currently tracking four different cells moving out of Somalia, Yemen, Pakistan and Iran. Their destinations are currently unknown."

"Maybe we need to know, that should be your priority." Director Lohman said, knowing the CIA was woefully behind NCIS in this one.

"If we don't capture Adala, either or both, it won't matter, they will keep recruiting, and one of those recruits will get us, one way or another. We have to get as many as we can in one fell swoop." Langer was going to fight for this, as McGee had suggested. "Madam President, these people are moving slowly, walking or using horse or camels, going across the countries they are in. If we don't keep tracking them, we will lose them. Once they reach a countrys border, we know this is where we can lose them, either when they get on a ship, or they immerse themselves in the local population to hide before moving."

"Ma'am, right now, we can take out Little Adala and one training camp. If we wait another four days, we have a ninety percent certainty to get Big Adala, Little Adala and five training camps. Within two days after that operation, we can get the four cells that are currently moving." Tim was not letting the CIA try and take this operation away. "NCIS currently has Marine and Navy resources on standby, awaiting a go order for a command they do not know. Our chance of success is high because the only people who know about the plan in full are in this room, the Director of NCIS and the Head of NCIS Operations. Even Agent Langers team don't know that this plan exists. We have them focused on what they will do when they reach their target destinations."

"And what has that got us so far?" The CIA Director was not a happy camper, thought the President.

"We know where these men are, we have possibilities of where they are going and how they will get there. After having observed them, these men have no explosives or weapons with them, meaning they will need to collect them when they get to their destinations." Tim decided to fight the CIA Director. "These men are under twenty four hour surveillance, by the NRO and NCIS. The Middle East desk is responsible for this, and so far, they have kept tabs on all of them. They know what they are looking and who at all times. Ma'am, we have four days to get everything in place and execute this operation. If we don't we lose the opportunity to get both Adalas, along with the four moving cells. We can't keep the Marine and Navy teams in place any longer than that."

Like his previous op to capture Adala, Tim had worked with Admirals McGee and Winchester, along with General Ford of the Marines, to ensure he had complete support throughout the Department of the Navy. Again, these three men did not know the full plan, just what Tim needed and when. Unusually, they did not know what these sailors would be needed for.

"Tim, what is there endgame," asked the President, needing to know what would happen if they failed to capture these terrorists.

"A direct assault on the Navy, along with Navy families."

"You have intelligence to confirm this?" The President was now very fearful, knowing an attack like this could be anywhere in the world.

"Yes, Ma'am. Chatter has caught on to two distinct phrases, the first is Ma'lblis, meaning the Water Devil, along with Awwal Ibn Ma'lblis, the first son of the Water Devil. We think they will attack either a specific Navy Captain or Admiral, along with their families, but that would mean attacking a Navy base somewhere in the world." President Elliott felt her chest tighten, knowing an attack like this would be huge. "We think they have something else planned."

"And what would that be?" Elliott hoped this would be a less serious threat.

"An attack on an Aircraft carrier and its support vessels." Not such a lesser threat then. "They would have more chance of this plan succeeding, as we can't stop every ship in International waters. As we know, missiles to take out aircraft carriers are available on the underground weapons markets, and it doesn't take much to increase their yield, or include nuclear material with the payload. Even if they can't make an atomic bomb, they can make a bomb that can spread radioactive material over a large area, infecting the whole area, including the rest of the fleet, with radiation." This was the plan that terrified Tim the most. "Those ships and crews would be contaminated. By the time we got people, equipment and medicine out to help them, they would either be dead or dying. We would have a whole fleet manned by crews of the dead."

Anna Elliott felt certain dread spread through her veins. This could not be allowed to happen, and she was going to do her best to stop it. She began giving out orders.

"Director Lohman, give NCIS whatever they need to stop this. SSA McGee, Special Agent Langer, you have complete authority to use whatever assets you need, get yourselves a team from the NRO and NSA dedicated to this. I want these people tracked 24/7, by everyone. Get it done. Tim, in four days, I want good news. Dismissed." President Elliott watched as the three men left the Oval Office, her personal assistant Chad coming into the room. "I need ten minutes, Chad." He nodded as he closed the door, leaving the President alone with her thoughts.

* * *

Somewhere else in Washington DC.

"They are acting exactly as you planned. How did you know all this would happen?" asked the dark haired man.

"Lets just say our newest resource is very knowledgeable about NCIS and dearest Timothy, in particular." The blonde man looked at the dark haired woman to his left. "Is that not right, my angel?" He asked.

The woman couldn't respond, having rope tied around your mouth tends to do that. instead she just glared at the two men who had been torturing her for the last week.

"She seems to know a lot more than people have given her credit for. I do believe she knows a lot more than she told us as well." The blonde man had stumbled on her by accident, but believe someone was watching over him, willing to succeed. "But do not worry, my dear, we have everything we need for now. I do not treat this way because I want to, but because I need to. You know things I don't, and I must know them one way or another. I will give you time to recover and gain your strength. You know what I will do to get this information. The next time I ask you questions, remember the pain, for it will only get worse for you."

She looked at her bloody feet and fingers, where they put needles under her nails, before forcefully removing the nails from her toes. They had threatened her fingers, but she had screamed something at them. She was delirious from the pain, and had no idea what she had actually told them, but they had stopped the torture, leaving for hours, before coming back and giving her water, and some small bits of food.

Abigail Scuito was not a traitor to the United States, but she knew had betrayed her country over the past seven days, multiple times. She prayed to God she would be forgiven for her betrayal.

* * *

"Tell me, the other women?" The blonde asked, needing to know where they were.

"All under surveillance, they will be there, probably not on time, but they will be there." The dark haired man had taken many risks to get to this point, and it would not end in failure.

"Excellent, once this is done, get rid of all of them, I don't care what happens to them, but we will get our revenge." The blonde smiled at him. "Then, we spend the rest of our lives living in paradise."

_Hope everyone enjoyed the nice twist in the story._


	11. Chapter 11

Four days later- ten days until the explosion.

Abby sat in the cold room, her hands stuffed under her arms, trying to keep them warm. Her feet had been treated to stop infections. Abby had wondered why they were cared about her injuries, but the blonde one told her.

"It's simple, my dear, an infection in these injuries could lead to an infection in your blood. That will kill you, possibly too quickly for my liking. I need you alive as long as possible."

Abby hoped someone noticed she was missing, but she doubted it. Since leaving NCIS, Abby had bounced around from one forensics job to another, some government work, but mostly private. Due to her firing from NCIS, none of these jobs offered her a permanent position. Sitting there, Abby remembered the last time she had spoken to McGee, the day after the investigation had ended. Now she regretted it, hoping they were not the last words they had ever said to each other.

_Flashback_

"_Are you happy you got me fired, McGee? What do you think I should do, now, Mr MIT?" Abby screamed at him, watching as he looked at her._

"_Abby, I did no such thing, and you know it. You decided to look after that dog, knowing what he had done to me."_

"_You shot a dog, McGee. He was injured." Abby knew he was right, but couldn't stop herself defending Jethro._

"_So was I," McGee said, in a raised voice. "I felt his teeth in my arm and shoulder, his weight pressing down on my chest."_

"_You could have done something else, McGee." _

"_Yeah, I could've, maybe I should have just lay there as he bit into my neck, his teeth sunk into my carotid artery, lay there bleeding out on the ground. I'd have been dead in seconds." Tim watched as the Goth woman paled more than her natural skin tone. "What would you have said to Sarah and my parents? _'I'm so sorry about, Timmy, Sarah, but at least he didn't hurt the poor animal.' _My God, Abby, I didn't shoot that mutt for fun, my life was in danger. Don't you get it, yet."_

"_McGee, how can you say that? You know I don't want anything to happen to you."_

"_Really?" Tims sarcasm was in full flow. "Then why did you call me, Bad McGee, like I was the dog who had done wrong? Abby, sometimes, you have your priorities seriously out of whack. The way you acted, and spoke today, you would have rather have had a dead McGee than a shot dog." Tim let those words hang in the air, closing the door on her. _

"_Timmy, if you don't let me in, I'll tell Gibbs." Abby kicked McGees door, not expecting the response._

"_Tell Gibbs?" McGee shouted at her, as he stepped through the once again open door. "Is that the best you got? What's he going to do? Come down here and assault a federal officer? Head slap me until I've forgiven you for being so stupid? Try again, Abby. Now, leave me alone." Tim stepped back into the apartment, slamming the door._

_Abby stood there for several minutes, watching as her best friend ended their friendship. Even though Tim had ended it, it was Abby who had pushed him away, Abby who had hurt him. She knew she would never be forgiven for it, either._

_End Flashback_

"Ah, darling Abigail, you are awake, I see. I have questions for you, concerning Jennifer Shepard." Abby watched as the man brandished a scalpel.

* * *

"Tim, Derrick, status?" Jenny Shepard entered MTAC, seeing Tim and Derrick having a last minute conversation.

"We have confirmed reports for all targets. All teams standing by." Derrick said.

"All intelligence has been checked and re-checked, we are as up to date as we can be."

"Very well, Derrick, when you are ready?"

Jenny stepped away from the Head of Operations, choosing to sit in the gallery, Tim sat next to her, with Langer and his small cadre of agents behind them. On the MTAC screen was a direct feed to the Pentagon and to the White House Situation Room.

"All teams, report in." This was the hard part, Jenny thought. She could only watch and hear Derrick, all other communications went through the headset he was wearing.

"Madam President, we are ready." Derrick Young looked directly into the camera, seeing President Anna Elliott standing at the head of the table in the Situation Room.

"_SSA Young, you have a green light. Good luck and Godspeed." _

"Thank you, Ma'am. All teams, you have a green light, go, go, go."

The screen started flashing, with additional screens popping up as members of the marine and navy teams deployed to take down the terrorist cells turned on the cameras attached to their helmets. The teams had all gone in under darkness, and wearing night vision goggles. Tim was watching as the sailors and marines moved into the villages, all armed with both automatic weapons and tranquillizer guns. They wanted as many of them alive as possible.

Within twenty minutes, it was all over, without a single casualty to the US Forces. Tim was stunned, not a single dead terrorist, some had been sedated, and only one had been shot, and that was in the leg to prevent escape.

"Acknowledged, Alpha 1, acknowledged, Beta 1. Madam President, both men claiming to be Husam Min Adala are in custody, I repeat, both men are in custody." At those words, Tim felt like copying the Situation Room, and start the cheering, but he held himself in check.

"_SSA Young, well done, no casualties to our men, you are to be commended. SSA McGee, your intelligence team, pass on my thanks. Director Shepard, you should be very proud of your agency. Thank you, all, for your hard work." _With that, the President turned off her link, knowing that NCIS still had a lot of work to do.

"Derrick, Tim, I agree with the President, outstanding work from both of you. Send me the reports by 1800 hours today, and take tomorrow off, you both deserve it. Thank you, again." Tim watched as Jenny left the room, and he turned to his team.

"Guys, well done, all of you, your work over the past week has been exceptional. While I can't give you tomorrow off, I can arrange something else. Be ready to go by 1800 hours tomorrow, my treat. Go." With that, Tim dismissed him, needing to speak with Derrick.

Derrick Young needed to speak with Tim, and had told the MTAC technicians to take a break. By the time he had let them go, there was only him and Tim left in the room. Derrick checked all comms were shut off, so they wouldn't be overheard.

"So, Tim, what's on your mind?" Derrick asked, hoping the young man would tell him he was looking for trouble.

"This was way too easy. We get both Adalas, all four cells, plus three training camps, and not a single loss of life. Either we just cashed in on all of our good luck, or we got played for idiots."

"You read my mind. What the hell have we missed?" Derrick was feeling very uncomfortable about this takedown.

"I don't know, but I think we shouldn't drop the threat level. We keep all bases on alert until the interrogations are complete. One of them might know something." Tim was praying that he was wrong, that the Marines and SEAL teams were just that good.

* * *

"The Atfaal Min Itar is no more. NCIS have taken down another terrorist cell."

"Good for them. Of course, the threat they pose still remains."

"Yes," said the blonde man. "The Water Devil and The First Son will soon be dead. I do hope Tim appreciates my gift to him."

The two men smiled at each other, looking at the blood on the floor, spilt earlier from Abigail Scuito.


	12. Chapter 12

5 days before the explosion

Tim and Cassie had decided to not put their lives on hold any longer, and had gone out on a double date with Jimmy and Bryn. They were eating at Zaytinyas, a Mediterranean restaurant both Cassie and Bryn liked. For the first time in a long time, Tim felt relaxed, enjoying a Saturday night out with his girlfriend and friends.

"So, Jimmy, any thoughts of what to do after your transition year is up?" Cassie asked, not really knowing Jimmy that well.

"Dr. Hampton and the Director have both said I can stay on permanently with NCIS. Jordan has been asked to lecture at Georgetown in the fall, once a week for the criminal autopsy class, so rather than have her split her time, that day I'll be left on my own and if we get a case, I get the full credit of Medical Examiner and Jordan gets credited as my supervisor." Jimmy said this with pride, his years of hard work paying off. Tim watched as Bryn smiled at her boyfriend, the two of them finally finding their balance of work and play. "Hows the Pentagon?" Jimmy asked Cassie in return.

"Not as bad as I feared. We are pretty much left on our own up there, only assisting the Navy Yard when we need to. We focus much more on drugs and fraud up there. Trust me, you'd think people would learn not to smuggle using Navy equipment, but they don't."

"So, when's the next book out, 'Tom'?" Bryn asked, being a massive fan of the series Tim had written, going as far as to buy two sets, one for reading, and another set personally autographed by Tim for posterity.

"One is going through final editing, another through the proof reading. Should have both out within six months." Bryn was a very happy woman right now.

"Tim, I could barely find the time for a degree and part time job, a job that actually coincided with the degree and one that gave me course credits. How do you do a full time job, all the extra work that you do, keep Cassie very happy, bake cakes and write not one, but two books?" Jimmy wished he had just one extra hour in the day, let alone the ten Tim seemed to find.

"Time management." Tim smirked.

"He means people management," Cassie translated. At the blank looks from her two friends, she continued. "Tim delegates certain responsibilities. So two of his meetings with NCIS Deputy Directors are taken by heads of sections, one for each of them. This gives him an extra two to three hours a week. Instead of travelling to the White House for meetings with NSA, FBI and CIA, he sits in his office on teleconference, avoiding the travel time."

"There is another reason for that as well," Tim interrupted

"Yeah, you don't want to hit them." Everyone smiled at this point. "Instead of meeting just one section head at a time every day, he has them all in his office at the same time for a morning and afternoon meeting, and one to ones throughout the week, saving him another five hours."

"Plus, that also saves on the reports. Everyone knows what everyone is doing, without having to sit there, writing and reading emails all day." Tim countered, knowing he did things differently to Gloria Tainer. Tim remembered the conversation he had had with her when she called in on him.

_Flashback_

_Tim was sitting on his three seater sofa, hidden partly from view by the conference table that dominated a third of the room._

"_Tell me you have brandy in this office?" Tim heard the dry tone of Gloria Tainer, standing up to see her at the door._

"_Only the bottle you left me," Tim replied with a smile._

"_That will do, sonny, make it a large one." Gloria invited herself in, taking Tims spot on the sofa. "This is what the office was missing, how did you get it? I asked for years."_

"_I asked Jenny." Tim replied, sotto voce._

"_So did I."_

"_I told my godfather," Tim smirked at her, seeing her blank look. "As a lady of great discretion, please tell no one that my godfather is Philip Davenport." _

"_No worries here, did that work?" Gloria asked, hoping Tim was not one of those kids who used his family connections._

"_Not a chance, he just laughed at me. So, I listened to my mom. When all else fails, do it yourself. So, I went out, bought it, got it delivered, and then abused my power."_

"_You got probies to bring it down?" Gloria smirked._

"_Never," Tim said, horrified. "I got interns to bring it down." Tim smirked. "No, me and a couple of friends moved it in on a Saturday. Trust me, the chairs in this place maybe ergonomic but they still get damned uncomfy." Tim had taken Cassie, Jimmy, Bryn and Stan Burley out for a burger and beers that Saturday afternoon._

"_Preaching to the choir, here, Tim," she said, accepting the brandy he offered. She noticed he wasn't drinking with her. "No drink, Tim?"_

"_Driving home, plus I've got a staff meeting in twenty minutes, not the best idea to be smelling of liquor when I start shouting."_

"_True, that's part of the reason I'm here." Tim wondered where this was going. "I get more complaints since I left than when I was here."_

"_OK, let me guess, people don't like the seating plan, or the meeting schedules, or the extra responsibilities." Tim saw her mouth open slightly in surprise. "So, right on all three then."_

"_Tim, I was head of Intelligence for twelve years. I personally recruited and trained half of the analysts out there, all of the section heads were my personal choices. This is too much change for them."_

"_If I had just changed the seating plan, that would have been a change, the meetings would have got changed a month later, the extra responsibilities a month after that. That's three changes in three months, never giving them a chance to adjust." Tim had spent more than ten years involved in debate clubs at county and collegiate level, winning more than his fair share of trophies. "That would have just kept knocking them from pillar to post, having them constantly worried each time they stepped through the door that something else had changed." Gloria Tainer took the scolding in the spirit it was meant. She was no longer in charge, he hadn't fired anyone and he had had no complaints._

"_I remember some advice you gave me, I'm going to act on it now." Gloria wondered what he was going on about, watching him rise from the sofa and heading towards the door. "Tabitha, I want you and all the section heads in my office, now!" Tim said with a raised voice. Gloria stayed seated, knowing Tim was about to assert his authority. "You might not want to leave just yet," Tim said, waiting on his seven most senior team members to arrive. "Though you may want to cover your ears," Tim suggested. Within sixty seconds, all seven had arrived and had seen Gloria. They were now all glancing at each other, all knowing they had called her at least once in the past two weeks._

"_As the seven people in the department with the most analysis experience, judging from the nine people in this room and the look on my face, what is your analysis?" Tim demanded rather than asked politely, as was his wont over the past two weeks. "Come on, now, none of you have seemed shy speaking to Miss Tainer before." Tim left that comment hang in the air, seeing if anyone was brave enough to speak. No one did. "Very well, no one wishes to speak, don't say I didn't give you the opportunity." Gloria saw his authority being asserted and was very proud of the man. Everyone on the floor knew something was happening in the office. The impact would only be made depending on the poker faces of the people she had recruited and trained._

"_At the request of Director Shepard and with the blessing of Miss Tainer, I took command of the Intelligence section two weeks ago. That fact seemed to have missed a few of you, considering all of you have complained to Miss Tainer in the past fourteen days regarding this section. Let me make something crystal clear." Tim looked at all seven of them before speaking again. "I have made changes to this section, and I will continue to do so. Not because the old way wasn't working, but because sometimes a new way works better. If you have a problem with anything, come see me. I will listen and let you explain your reasons for not wanting something done. You may even get me to back down." Tim decided to threaten them to get his point across. "Should any of you, or any of your staff, decide to venture into contortionism by going behind my back to Gloria or over my head to the Director, I will make your lives hell. Are we clear?" Tim looked at all seven, all of whom had paled at his words. Not hearing any acknowledgements, Tim raised his voice several decibels. "ARE WE CLEAR?" was heard on the main floor._

"_Yes, Sir." was heard in seven, much quieter voices than the one previous._

"_Good, thank you all, see you at the 3 o'clock meeting." Tim watched them leave, much quicker than they normally would. He turned to Gloria, "Think that was ok for asserting my authority?" He asked, watching the living legend sitting there, her mouth open. _

_Tim knew he would never actually fire them, but they didn't know that._

* * *

While Tim was enjoying his time, he had no idea he was under observation.

"It's time, hurt him." Said the voice over the phone. The man on the other end said nothing, just ending the call, setting off towards the table of four. If he knew the people sitting there, he would have thought more of it, but he just thought about the money. Within seconds, he knocked the african american woman with his shoulder, knocking her into the standing table. Tim was on him in seconds.

"Wanna watch where you're going." Tim had put himself in front of the group, ready to defend his friends and Cassie. "Cass, you ok?" He asked over his shoulder, keeping his eyes on the man.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Tim." Cassie was also watching the man, pulling her purse to her, sliding her hand inside to grip the gun hidden inside.

"Not my fault your chick can't take care of herself." This guy was going to push Tims buttons.

"One, she isn't my "chick", two, you knocked her, three, she's a federal officer, so do yourself a favour and disappear." Tim was forceful in his words, ready to defend himself and the three people behind him.

"Tell you what, nerd, you disappear." With that, Robert Dolan threw his first punch. What he didn't know is that it would be his last. Tim saw the guy tilt back slightly, and was on the move.

The right hook missed his head by a good six inches as Tim had stepped to the side, keeping himself centred, he stepped forward now, planting his left foot and raising his right. He snapped his right leg out, his foot slamming into the mans left knee pushing it inward. The mans brain knew instantly something had happened, as the signals from the ankle and knee had stopped coming in. The man did what most people do at this point, he spun to face the guy who had kicked him, and saw the man moving again. What actually happened was his knee had given way, the snapped tendons and splintered bones no longer able to function, and he hit the ground. The whole event took less than four seconds. But in that time, the man was surrounded. When he looked up, it was a sight he did not expect.

Supervisory Special Agent Timothy McGee, Special Agents Cassie Yates and Bryn Fillmore, along with two FBI Agents, and a Metro PD Detective all had guns trained on him. The man wondered what the hell was going on.

"Well, that didn't work!" Said the man in the van.

Zaytinyas was a favourite restaurant of the alphabet soup personnel, and Robert Dolan was swimming in it, right now.


	13. Chapter 13

3 days until the explosion

"We've got a problem."

"Good morning, Brent, how was your weekend?" Tim knew if the problem was very serious he would have been paged to come in.

"I say 'we've got a problem', and you ask about my weekend?" Brent was stunned at Tims response.

"If the world is ending, Brent, at least I die knowing the people around me are happy," Tim grinned cheekily at him, eliciting a smile from the older man.

"It was fine, thank you. This the part where I ask about yours?" Brent asked, just as cheekily as Tims grin.

"Next time, start with good morning and the pleasantries, then move on to the dire news. What's the problem?" Tim asked, climbing the stairs, bypassing the elevators in order to get a bit of extra exercise as well as avoid people who wanted to speak to him over something he didn't care about.

"There is still chatter about Ma'lblis and Awwal Ibn Ma'lblis, but where this new cell is, we can't figure it out. There is no chatter about location." Brent was worried about this chatter, very worried.

"That could mean the cell is in location, awaiting the go code." Tim and Brent crossed the Intel floor, moving for Tims office. "We need to get Sam Stevens on the line." Tim grabbed the phone, using his secure line to speak to Camp Lemonnier in Djibouti.

"Tim, you have any ideas on who the Devil and his son are?"

"Not yet," his mind whirring into gear over those words. "SAC Sam Stevens, please. This is SSA McGee...Thank you," Tim covered the mouthpiece. "Brent, think about that last sentence, focus on the words 'his son.' Sam, the interrogations, I need you to focus on Ma'lblis and Awwal Ibn Ma'lblis, the Water Devil and the First Son of the Water Devil...Thanks, Sam, I need updates every hour going forward, thanks...Bye, Sam." Tim ended the call, keeping his eyes on Brent. "Close the door." Tim grabbed the coffee he had come in with, moving to his conference table, gesturing for Brent to join him. "Repeat your last sentence."

"Do you have any ideas on who the Devil and the First Son are?" Brent said.

"No, that wasn't what you said. You said 'the Devil and _his _son," stressing the 'his'. "Go over every report we have, but I'm pretty sure its always been the first son, not his son. You've studied foreign languages, you know how bad words can be mistranslated. We are saying first son, what if we look at it a different way."

"What way is that, Tim?" Brent asked, not following Tims line of thought.

"The first-born child, in a lot of cultures, is also the heir. What if by removing the Water Devil, the First Son is the heir, the one to take over. Like say, the first officer of a navy ship." Tim was doing his best not to panic right now. "Go over every piece of intelligence referring to these phrases, I want to know every time its been used. Get your guys together, use the conference room for it. I'll speak with Frank." Tim was out of his seat quickly, moving onto the floor and heading to the Middle East desk. Tim spotted Frank Green, sitting with one of his younger analysts. Tim knew Frank preferred the hands on approach for training and review, rather than telling them what he wanted.

"Frank, I need a word," Tim gestured to the edge of the floor with his eyes. never stopping to see if the Head of Section was following him, just expecting it. When he turned, the man was practically on top of him. "Frank, you speak nearly every Middle Eastern language. I need you to retranslate some reports for me. The ones I need are the ones that include the words Ma'lblis and Awwal Ibn Ma'lblis. I don't need the direct translation, I need a context interpretation." Frank Green just nodded at his boss, moving back to his desk without saying a word. Tim now made his next house call on Tabitha McGuinness. He saw she was talking with Ziva, the Israeli woman still with her hair even longer, the waves of her hair flowing over her shoulders.

"Tabitha, can you take over for a while? Ziva, cover Europe for me." Tim was walking to the door when he was called back.

"Tim, get back here now." Tabitha McGuinness called him back, standing there with her hands on her hips and promises of pain in her eyes. Tim walked back to the two women standing there, Ziva smirking at him. "I will do this as you are my boss, but first, speak with Ziva." Tabitha walked off, knowing Tim deserved to hear what Ziva had to say.

"Ziva?" Tim asked worriedly, hoping everything was ok.

"Tim, I know it may come as a surprise, but something has happened. Please be happy for me, well, I hope you will be happy for me, as I think its very good news…" Tim stopped her before it got worse.

"Ziva," placing his hands on her shoulders, "you're rambling." This was one of Zivas bad habits, it came out when she was unsure how to express herself. "Take a deep breath and tell me." Tim encouraged her. He watched as she took a breath, calming herself before her announcement.

"I'm pregnant."

"Oh my god, really?" Tim was grinning so hard his face hurt. "That's fantastic, mazel tov!" he said hugging her. "But I thought that you and Damon couldn't, you know, after the drugs…" Not saying the actual words.

"Well, the doctors said that the chances were very low, but not impossible. I guess they were right." Ziva already had the pregnancy glow that women were said to have.

"Well, does this mean the wedding is going to be moved up?" The wedding of Ziva David and Damon Werth was not planned for another eighteen months. Due to Damons decisions to take performance enhancing medication to make himself a better marine, he had paid for it with his sterility and weakened immune system. While his immune system had recovered for the most past, his lack of fertility was not reversible. Tim knew they had talked about adoption, but he knew that plan would now be put on hold.

"Yes, we have already booked a cancellation. It's in three weeks, you and Cassie will be there, yes?" Tim heard the question, but knew it was more like a demand.

"Of course we will be there. We will talk later, ok? Congratulations, again, but I really have to go, now."

"Go!" Ziva encouraged, her smile having never left her face.

* * *

Tim walked into the Directors outer office, noticing three people sitting in the chairs, being glanced at by Gale Trench, her eyes keeping them pinned to the chairs.

"Gale, good morning, any chance of five minutes alone?" Like her predecessor, Gale knew the unspoken coded language of the senior agents and personnel of NCIS.

"She's on a call, go on in," Gale gestured with her eyes. Her eyes moved back to the three people sitting down. They had been waiting for fifteen minutes already, but looking at Gale, they decided not to say anything and just sit there, in silence.

Tim left the three people sitting there as he walked in, opening and closing the door as silently as possible. He saw Jens eyebrows raise as she watched her head of Intelligence stand in front of her desk.

"General Ford, can I call you back? I think there may have been a development in this case? Thank you. The AMI?" Jen asked, hanging up the phone.

"Yeah, there is still chatter about the Devil and the First Son."

"That's what me and the General were discussing. He wants to drop the increased security on the bases. I'm inclined to disagree with him."

"I would. I have Frank Green working on the translations again, but working towards a more interpretational wording of the intel." Rather than using the literal translation of each word, the text would be translated several times, each time using a different word that had the same meaning. "I think we got the meaning of First Son wrong."

"You don't think it means a Navy Captain and his son?" Jen queried.

"It's still possible, but I think it might mean a Navy Captain or Admiral and his 'heir'", Tim made quotation marks in the air on the last word. "If you take out the commanding officer and his next in command, you leave a pretty big vacuum to be filled, it could cause chaos. In some cultures and systems of rule, the first son is the heir, like Prince Charles, the first son and heir to the throne of England. If, by some twist of fate, both Her Majesty and Prince Charles were killed in an accident, Prince William would take over, but it would be pretty devastating for Britain and the Royal Family." As he was speaking, Tims conscious mind was catching up with unconscious. "This could be an attack on POTUS and VPOTUS, or on two people of similar stature. Jen, we cannot drop the threat level." Tim implored.

"Bring me the reviews when you get them. I will press to keep the threat level where it is, but Tim, we need solid intel, not just a hunch. You get the intel and I will keep the threat level where it is. Go." With that, Tim was out of the office, practically running, stopping at the door, to share the good news.

"You spoken with Ziva, today?" Tim asked, smiling.

"No, why?" Jen was confused by that non-sequitur.

"Get her in here, trust me, she has something you want to hear." Tim said smiling, knowing the Director would be just as happy as he was over the news.


	14. Chapter 14

The Day of the Explosion

0800 Hours

Tim sat at his desk, his mind contemplating the Water Devil and The First Son. All security precautions had been taken, with more than thirty families currently being held in protective custody. Due to who his father was, Tim now had a security detail with him at all times, except when he was inside the Navy Yard. Over the past three days, the chatter had increased, with every ship currently at sea heading for port, and if not, friendly waters. NCIS Intelligence had no idea what the threat was or where it was coming from. With no new ideas in the past hour, Tim decided to go back to how he did things in the CTOC.

"Tabitha, Tracy, Ziva, Frank, can you come in here please?" Tim looked out over the floor, looking for anyone else he could use. "Ben, you too." Benjamin Schofield panicked, wondering what he done to get called into the Bosses office. "None of you panic, you're not getting fired." Tim moved back to his desk, waiting on the five people. Tim watched as Frank waited for Tracy and Ben, coming in last and closing the door. Tim took a deep breath before speaking.

"We are lost. All the intelligence and chatter tells us that the Water Devil and The First Son are about to be attacked. We need to narrow it down, quickly. But, we need a new method. Ziva, we've done this before, when we've had too many suspects. Find a way to narrow it down, get me a smaller target pool, take Ben with you." He watched as Ben paled. "Ben, the people around you are some of the most experienced NCIS has when it comes to Intelligence, but we've also been staring at it for weeks. You are the newest, you may see something we haven't. Go." Tim said, dismissing them. After they had left, he addressed the rest. "We need to know what this attack will be. Reach out, to everyone, everywhere. Leave no stone unturned, this attack is only hours away now, no more than a day. Get to it." Tim watched them leave, all of them understanding the seriousness of the situation. Tim, for the first time in a few years, felt lost. It was not a good feeling.

* * *

"I believe it's time. Time for our revenge. Abigail, you have been such pleasant company these past two weeks, in another life, I would never looked twice at you. I promised not to let you die, and that is true. I will call the police to come for you, but not for a few hours." The blonde man looked down at her, smiling. "I just ask one thing of you, please tell Timothy I told him I would destroy him, and today I will. Tell him Michael says hello." Michael DeLa Tour looked at the Goth woman, feeling nothing but disgust for the woman. If she had been nicer to Tim when he was bit by the dog, there was a chance they never would have met.

Michael DeLa Tour stepped out of the room, closing and locking the door. Jack Chapman stood outside, waiting for his best friend.

"Do you really think it was wise to tell her your name?"

"Jacques, I did not tell her yours, did I? Now, how is your revenge coming?" Michael had come up with some of this plan himself, the rest belonged to his revenge seeking best friend, a boy he had shared holidays with in France.

"The Devil will be soon dead, and my face will be the last thing my fathers killer sees."

"Time to send the messages. I do hope Timothy appreciates this gift." Michael DeLa Tour smiled, a smile that promised vengeance and pain for Timothy McGee.

* * *

1100 hours

"Ziva, tell me with have something." Tim demanded, walking into the conference room off the Bullpen, the Intelligence rooms all full of people working different angles at the moment.

"Tim, to target both the Captain and First Officer, you would need to know their daily routine and be betting these two people would not deviate from that. We have an idea to protect them further."

"Let me hear it."

"Put them in separate crew quarters," Ben Schofield offered. "There are only two places you can guarantee the Captain and XO will be, that's the Bridge and their individual quarters. Keep them away from both. The Captain and XO can run the ship from the Engineering sections or Cyber warfare sections of their ships." Tim saw the logic in the plan.

"That is a great idea, I'll run it past the Director. Any others?"

"Whatever ships are too far out for assistance, get some of our allies to assist them. We have good relations with France, Germany, and the UK. Can we get them to pull alongside our ships, or at least, keep an eye on them?" Ben was much more confident now than before, he wouldn't say it to McGee, but Tracy Sheridan was a nightmare to work for.

"Yeah, that we can get done. Any more?" Tim asked, kicking himself he hadn't thought of it.

"No, that's it for now." Ziva said.

"I'll go to the Director, now." Tim left the room, heading for the stairs when he saw Stan Burley heading for him.

"This is for you. I heard you were in before 0600. Take this coffee, eat the apple and the banana in the bag. If you don't come meet me for lunch at 1300, I will come and drag you out of whatever you are in. It's either me or Bryn that does it, your choice?" Tim was floored by the support, realising that Cassie must have been in touch with Bryn, and Bryn told Stan.

"I'll take you, Bryn will give me a lecture worse than Cassie. Thanks for this." Tim was grateful for the coffee and the food.

"Any time, Tim. Let me know if the team can help in anyway. We're on cold cases for the day so far." Stan headed back to his desk. Unlike Gibbs, Stan preferred not to have his MCRT doing terrorism cases, at least, not the intelligence side of things. He knew where the strength of himself and his team lay, and it wasn't watching videos and reading reports over and over again. Tim headed up the stairs, needing to speak with the Director. Opening the outer office door, he found Gale Trench at her desk, on the phone.

"The Director will not be available for the call at 1200 hours. She asked to reschedule for this afternoon, at 1500 hours," Gale held a finger up, Tim knowing the _I'll be right with you _gesture. "Thank you. Timothy, how can I help?" Gale asked, putting the phone down.

"I need five minutes, can she be interrupted?"

"Of course, she's in there with an old friend, one of yours, too. She just needed to cancel the call until he's gone." Gale said, knowing Tim could be trusted.

"Until who is gone?" Tim asked, wondering who he was walking in on.

"Deputy Director Vance." The alarm bells began ringing in Tims mind, all the pieces of Intelligence slotting together like a jigsaw puzzle. Tim grabbed the phone on the desk, hitting the red button on the phone. The call was answered immediately.

"This is SSA McGee, lock down the Navy Yard, secure all entrances and exits, no one in or out. I don't give a damn if the President herslef wants into this yard, no one has clearance to enter or leave, understood?"

"Understood." Came back the voice of Ben Oswold. Tim slammed the phone down.

"You know what to do?" He said to Gale. The woman nodded. Tim marched into the office, not closing the door. "Jen, Leon, it's you two. You are the targets." Tim watched as the two people looked at him blankly.

"Tim, what do you mean, we are the targets?" Jen asked, not following her head of Intelligence.

"You are the Water Devil, Vance, the First Son." Seeing he was not being understood, Tim explained. "I've put the Yard on lockdown, no one in or out. Listen, the chatter talks about the Water Devil and The First Son of the Water Devil. No offence, Jen, but you are a scary lady, and with the red hair, you could easily be called a Devil. Being head of NCIS, the Water Devil, the evil one in charge of water is an apt description." Leon could see Tims train of thought, but not how he was connected to it, and said so.

"Not to spoil your theory, Tim, but the Director didn't give birth to me."

"No, but as you are the most senior of the three Deputy Directors, you are the Heir Apparent, in some cultures, the Heir Apparent is the first son born. If both of you are killed, NCIS is left without a functioning head. It would be a fight for either Granger, Craig or someone new to take over." Tim was seeing it all play out in his head. "NCIS would be weakened severely with the loss of you both, the agency would suffer, morale diminished, work not getting done, the terrorists would have an easier time of it." Tims mind was moving even quicker now, seeing the DoN security agents coming through the door, led by Ben Oswold. "Ben, the Director and the Deputy Director need to be taken into protective custody. They go nowhere, not even the bathroom, unaccompanied."

"Hang on, Tim…"

"Wait a minute…"

"No!" Tim said in a raised voice, silencing his two superiors. "We have been focusing all our efforts on everyone but NCIS. We haven't got any protection in place for either of you, except what you normally have. Ben, coordinate with the West Coast, place the Vance family in protective custody." Tim was taking no chances. "We also need Deputy Directors Craig and Grainger covered as well. Don't use any NCIS safe houses, they may be compromised. Here's my keys, use my place, you know its secure." Tim offered his place without a second thought, reminding himself to tell Cassie. "Book hotels throughout the city, phone all of them if you have to, anything to confuse people. Don't tell anyone where you are except me and SecDef." Tim was just as worried about his honorary uncle, he had two daughters and no sons. The SecNav post, while important, was not as high profile as the head of NCIS or SecDef, but he could still be a target. "Pull in Secretary Davenport as well, lets keep all our bases covered. Director, Deputy Director, you need to leave now. You will need to inform Agent Burley of the changes as you leave, Ma'am."

"Tim, you should take charge, you know the situation better than anyone." Vance saw the Director who this man would one day be in that moment.

"No, Sir. I need to be where I can do the most good, and that's in Intelligence. I can't leave them now, or do both jobs. Agent Burley is the most senior field agent in the building, it's his right by seniority." Tim was not backing down on this. "I'll be returning to my apartment later this afternoon to collect some belongings. Whichever of you stays there will have the place to themselves. Me and Cassie can stay with friends. no arguments. See you both soon." With that, Tim was out of the door, walking quickly to Intelligence. He needed to brief his team and the the National Security Council.

* * *

Jen watched McGee leave. The man was so different than any other she had worked with. Most people would love the idea of the big chair, yet he pushed it aside without a thought, knowing what he needed to do, and sitting in this office wasn't his idea of a promotion. Jen looked as Leon, seeing the worry in his eyes as well. It was now she wondered if this was what it felt like to be caught in the cross hairs of a sniper.


	15. Chapter 15

The Day of the Explosion contd.

"Send the messages, it's time for Timothy to know pain." Michael DeLa Tour said to Jacques, driving his best friend to enact his revenge. "They really should check their cars for GPS markers." Michael smiled, knowing the agents always checked if they were being followed, but GPS markers are tiny and give off no scent. He knew exactly where Jennifer Shepard was, and he also knew how she was going to die. Now it was time to get the witnesses.

"You think they will come?" Jacques asked, his American accent much diminished, his French accent could now be heard.

"Indeed they will, these women will do anything for their Timmy." Michael had gained so much from Abigail, his only regret was that she would not witness what was to come.

* * *

Jennifer Shepard waited outside Tims apartment while her bodyguards checked every room, closing all the curtains and shutting all the windows. Jen had not visited Tim at home, and hated that the first time she was in here it was as a virtual prisoner rather than as a dinner guest.

"All clear, Ma'am. Do I need to remind you of what you should and should not do?" Agent Fox had been on her detail since the beginning, had travelled all over the world with her and knew she sometimes, like many others, broke protocol.

"No, Neil, not today, I will be a very good Director." Jen knew she sometimes ignored protocol, but today was not the time to do so.

"Thank you, Director. Just to inform you, there are agents in every stairwell, the roof, fire exits and lobby. We have the building under constant surveillance, both from a van outside as well as the command centre. We have eyes and ears everywhere." Fox was taking no chances with this one. Fox left the apartment, leaving Jen alone.

She knew now she was truly alone. She was not allowed to contact anyone, any internet access might give away her location. Looking around the apartment, she spotted a book on the table, seeing the name _Thom E Gemcity. _Picking the book up, she read the back cover, never having read any of the series.

_NCIS is the Navys very own police department, stationed across cities and ports in the United States and the World. One such city and port is the Naval Station, Newport, Rhode Island. Special Agent Nancy Carter has been with NCIS for five years, and is still learning things about her job. When a bomb is detonated on the USS Saratoga, her job becomes a game of Cat and Mouse. Can she catch the bomber before he blows up another Navy ship?_

"Well, _Thom,_ looks like you just got another reader," she said, as she sat on the couch and began reading the book. Jen knew if she didn't do something, like reading, she would go crazy thinking about the real NCIS instead of the fictional one she was about to get to know.

* * *

Sarah McGee looked at her phone, seen the name _NCIS _flashing. Her class was sitting in silence, watching the video of Romeo and Juliet. She slipped into the store cupboard at the back of the class, answering the phone and speaking quietly.

"Hello," Sarah asked, knowing Tim was chasing some down terrorist that had threatened both him and her father,

"_Miss McGee, my name is Frank Green, NCIS. I've been asked to call to by Tim. Due to the current threat, Tim is being placed into protective custody for a short time." _said the voice Sarah didn't know.

"Oh God," Sarah felt the sweat on her forehead, panic beginning to take over.

"_He will be at his apartment to collect some things in approximately fifteen minutes. Should you wish to speak to him, now is the time. His telephone has been confiscated. I am sorry, Miss McGee." _The call ended, and Sarah looked out at her class. She grabbed her purse and left through the side door, knocking on the door of Peter Armitage, a fellow teacher. He came to the door, stepping out of his class.

"Peter, don't ask but can you watch my class, I have to go, something's happened to my brother, thanks." With that Sarah began running down the corridor, being a military child, she knew protective custody only came into effect when there was no alternative. She ran out of the school and straight to her car, using the auto feature to unlock the car from a distance. Jumping in the car, she threw her purse on the passenger seat, not thinking about her phone. If she had just called her mom to check, Sarah would not end up hurt.

* * *

Michael DeLa Tour stopped the car outside the house of the McGees, seeing the DoN agents posted outside. Jacques was seated in the back, behind the blacked out windows. Michael knew he had very few minutes to get the woman, so he marched up to the house, flashing a badge he had been given by Jacques.

"Federal Marshall, I've been sent to take Mrs McGee into custody," the two DoN agents looked briefly at each other, their first and last mistake. Jacques had wound the window down slightly, and shot the agent to the left of the door in the head, Michael pulled his gun and shot the other agent the same way.

With no time to lose, Michael opened the door, seeing the woman moving towards him. "Mrs McGee," pointing his gun at her, "I'm afraid Timmy has been a very bad boy. As his mother, you should be part of his punishment." Within seconds, Alice McGee was sat in the back seat of the car, the bodies of the two DoN agents now in the house.

* * *

Ten minutes after Agent Burley took charge.

"Listen up people," Tim was standing on a desk on the Intelligence floor. "We have had a development. The targets have been identified as Jennifer Shepard and Leon Vance." Tim waited for that announcement to sink in. "Deputy Director Vance came to Washington because his father was involved in a car accident last night. Local LEOS thought it was a simple collision, but it was enough to put Mr Vance in the hospital, and bring the Deputy Director out here." Every intelligence analyst made the connection, and began worrying about their bosses. "Right now, we have them in undisclosed locations, under heavy guard and surveillance by DoN security. We need to know every location of every suspected terrorist in the city, as well as anyone with any connection to Atfaal Min Itar, no matter how small it might be, bring it the attention of your section head. Get to it."

Tim was on the run again, heading for Operations, where he was met by Derrick Young.

"Tim, I already have satellite and drone footage of the city, looking for anything out of the ordinary. I've tasked NSA and our own hackers to monitor websites and phones of anyone sympathetic or in league with the AMI." Derrick Young may have been twenty years older than his Intelligence colleague but he could move just as quickly. "I'm about to brief Burley."

"I'll join you, need to know what everyone else is doing." The two of them moved into the Bullpen, Tim seeing Stan doing what he had just done.

"People, now is not the time to second guess or start to think about what ifs. There is a definite threat to the Director and Deputy Director of this agency. Find out anything you can about weapons sales to people in the city, whatever you find, bring it the attention of your immediate superior, they bring it to me, I deal with it. Do not deviate from this chain of command. Thank you."

Stan moved down the stairs to the main level, spotting Tim and Derrick heading his way. He stopped moving forward, not wishing to discuss this in front of his staff, which was now the whole building.

"How's it going in there?" Stan asked.

"Now we know who the target is, everyone's attention, both Intelligence and Ops is focused in on the city." Derrick answered.

"We need to find out who they are, where they are and what they will use." Tim was worried they would never find them. "They have a heck of a head start. We don't how they got in, or where they have been hiding. We have been tracking them for ten weeks, and not once did we get any indication of a sleeper cell anywhere outside of the Middle East, let alone in the Capitol itself."

"I have everyone here checking on weapons sales. These guys will need sometime of gun or bomb. Tim, whatever we get, I will send over to you guys. Send me someone to act as a liaison." Stan needed someone to act as a go-between for the main floor and Intelligence.

"Flick, he's been working the case and he's worked for you." Gregory Flickman was the first person to come to mind.

"Agreed, I'll put him on it. Anything else?"

"Yeah, no matter what happens, do not let anyone drop the threat levels. These guys have been playing us from the start, God only knows what else we may have missed." Tim was not so arrogant to admit he had missed something when it came to the AMI and Adala.

"No arguments here. Let me know if you need anything," Stan said, dismissing them to their departments, wanting Jen back as soon as possible. With everyone looking to him to lead, Stan felt out of his depth. He wished he knew how Tim could lead the whole of Intelligence without a blink of an eye.

* * *

"Tell me, Mrs McGee, has Timothy or his father ever mentioned me?"

"I don't know or care who you are." Alice McGee would not show her terror to this man.

"Well, who knew that Timothy would not brag about his achievements to his mother. Your son captured me when he found out I was stealing NCIS secrets." Michael DeLa Tour was still angry he had been caught.

"Good for him. Shame he didn't shoot you at the time." Alice would be brave to the end.

"He did, through my right knee cap. Your husband was watching at the time, as was his Godfather. Tell me, do you know your sons former girlfriend, Abigail Scuito?"

Alice gasped, knowing who the woman was, and could only guess how much she knew about Tim.

"I see that you do. She told me all sorts of secrets, she probably can't remember half of it. For example, she told me Tim would sacrifice everything for NCIS, and she was right. With the right threat, Tim has given his home to Jennifer Shepard, so she can hide from my friend, Jacques. Abby also told me Sarah would drop everything for her brother, again, she did not lie. Sarah will meet us soon. Not long now, you, your daughter and the dear Director will be dead, Jacques will have had his revenge, and I will have given Timothy the perfect birthday gift." Alice was quite sure this man was psychotic, but she also knew he was physically stronger than she was. "For you see, today is my 31st Birthday, but as I have missed Tims for the last several years, and I have no doubt he does not know mine, from today, this day will be burned in his mind."


	16. Chapter 16

"_Tim, where are Shepard and Vance?" _Tim was on the phone to the President.

"They are both in protective custody in undisclosed locations, Ma'am." Tim replied.

"_I get that, Tim, but where?" _This was where Tim risked losing his job.

"I cannot divulge their locations, Ma'am." Hearing the woman take a breath, Tim jumped in. "Right now, only myself, Ben Oswald and the DoN agents know their locations. In my mind, thats too many people already. I want to keep the circle as small as possible."

"_Tim, there are not many people who can say to the President that I don't have high enough security clearance, but you are one of them. If you need anything from me or the NSC, let me know." _Anna Elliott had been impressed by Timothy McGee over the last three months. She had three years left of her first term, if she won re-election, she had ideas where she wanted that man, but she guessed he was like his father, and would refuse promotions and transfers.

"Thank you, Ma'am." Tim heard the phone go down, and put his down as well. Tim looked out at the floor, watching his staff working harder and faster than they ever had. A terrorist threat was one thing, but a direct threat against Jennifer Shepard and Leon Vance was something else. Their bosses, their family, had been threatened and no one liked that. Tim watched as the section heads directed their staff, utilising their strengths, making sure everyone maintained their focus. Tim knew they would need a break soon, otherwise there would be burnout. Moving onto the main floor, Tim headed for Tabitha and Graham. They both spotted him, and moved to the edge of the floor, knowing Tim prefered to speak as quietly as possible.

"We need to start giving everyone breaks. I don't want anyone working for more than three hours straight. And when they take the break, they have to leave the floor and get something to eat." Tim took care of his staff, the way Stan and Bryn had tried taking care of himself, earlier that day. "Tell them to grab a drink and something to eat. I don't want to worry about low blood sugar. I'll get the Mess to bring up fruit and energy bars for everyone as well."

"Tim, no one is going to want to leave their desks," Graham said, "They want these guys caught."

"You think I don't?" Tim asked sarcastically, causing Graham to look away. "Sorry. But, if we have analysts who are low on energy and been sitting for six hours straight, we're going to be in even more trouble. We'll send them in groups, fifteen minute breaks every three hours, on a rolling schedule. Agreed?" When they were confronted with the logic, Tabitha and Graham both agreed. "I'll let the floor know, now." Tim jumped on the nearest desk and whistled. Everyone turned to look at him. "OK, you guys have been at this for more than two hours now. As well as getting these terrorists, we have to take care of you as well. Starting with the African section, and going in alphabetical order, you are taking a ten minute break, starting now."

The whole floor rumbled with discontent. Tim put a stop to that, straight away. Whistling again, "You are no good to me, Shepard, Vance or everyone else if you get cramp from sitting too long, or suffer from low blood sugar due to not eating. You will leave the floor, get yourselves something to eat and drink, come back refreshed. This will be done afterwards every three hours. Heads of Section, this means you too, it also includes me." Tim treated everyone the same. "Right, get to it." Tim jumped down, looking at Tabitha and Graham, "Make sure they leave, not just move away from their desks."

"Got it, Tim." Graham moved away, starting to make sure people left.

"How you doing?" Tabitha asked, knowing he was much closer than she was to both Shepard and Vance.

"I'm doing ok, not the first time I've dealt with death threats to my boss, but definitely the first time I've had to worry about two of them, as well as the city." Tim hoped he could just keep up morale, just the threat against their bosses had them down, God only knew what their deaths would be.

"Tim, you have a call." Georgia Poole was the Intelligence switchboard operator, controlling the flow of calls into the Floor.

"Take a message." Tim had no time for trivial phone calls.

"Tim, its Ben Oswald." Tim realised his cell was in his office on charge.

"My office," Tim said, power walking to his office. Reaching his desk, he saw the two missed calls from Ben Oswald. Grabbing the phone, he wasted no time. "Ben, everyone settled?"

"Yeah, but now we have another problem. Tim, I'm sorry, but the two DoN agents assigned to your mother are dead, they were killed assassination style. Your mother is missing, and we can't get hold of your sister." Ben had delivered news like this before, knowing its better to get it out rather than hold anything back. "Your father has been informed, and we've got hold of Cassie."

* * *

Five minutes earlier.

"Hello," said Cassie Yates, answering her cell phone, the caller ID showing _unknown._

"_Miss Yates, my name is Michael DeLa Tour. Perhaps Tim has mentioned me?" _He gave her no chance to answer. "_You will come to Tims apartment, parking on K and 27th Street. You will then walk to your lovely home. Should you tell anyone, or deviate from these instructions, your future mother-in-law and sister-in-law will be killed."_

The call ended as quickly as it had started, Cassie holding her breath, not knowing what to do. She moved to Oliver Goldings desk, the probationary agent had started three weeks ago, she hoped his phone was new enough to have been compromised. She dialled the number for Ben Oswald from memory, the call ringing only once.

"_Hello?" _Ben Oswald was not used to receiving calls from numbers not in his cells memory.

"Ben, it's Cassie Yates. I've just had a phone call from Michael DeLa Tour. He claims to have Alice and Sarah McGee, and he wants me to go to K and 27th Street, before walking to my place."

"_Do not move, Yates. Your apartment is being used as a temporary protective custody suite. Guess we know who is behind the threat to Shepard and Vance. Do not leave the Pentagon until DoN security arrive."_

* * *

"_Tim, they've been kidnapped by Michael DeLa Tour, and he wants Cassie to meet him at your place. That is no coincidence. Tim, he's after you." _Ben listened for Tims response, not getting one. "_Tim, you there?" _

Tim was silent, planning his way to his home, thinking through everything he knew of the traitor, along with his murderous friend. They needed to change gears, and fast.

"Ben, keep Cassie where she is. Do not let her leave. Meet me in the bullpen, we need the MCRT as well as the SWAT teams." Tim was on the move again, heading out of his office, he yelled, "Ziva, Flick, with me, now!" Tim did not wait for them, knowing his time was limited. He spotted Stan Burley and Rick Hall when he walked onto the main floor, catching Stans eye. He moved towards the elevator, knowing he was being followed. Turning, he saw the four people gather around him. "We have a massive problem," Tim knew he was not far away from a complete breakdown. "Michael DeLa Tour has kidnapped my mom and sister, and tried to get Cassie to meet him at my place. Don't think its a coincidence that these four women would be gathered in one place. When I captured him over three years ago, he threatened to destroy me. Killing these women would do that."

"Tim, what do you need us to do?" Stan knew, when it came to family, protocol and the rules went out the window.

"I know DeLa Tour, but even he couldn't have done all this on his own. We need to know everything about Jack Chapman, the FBI traitor who helped him escape."

"I pulled his file at the request of the Director months ago. We were told he was an FBI agent gone rogue. Let me pull it up." Rick Hall moved to his desk, tapping at the keyboard, bringing up his file. Tim and Ziva both moved forward, looking at the profile picture.

"Tim, do you recognize this man?" Ziva asked, knowing she did, but not how.

"Yeah, he reminds me of someone, but not quite. It's like I've seen his brother or his dad, maybe." Ziva gasped, moving to the computer. She began typing, looking through the file.

"Tim, he was brought up in France, his father is listed as Rene Benoit."

"Damn! It's a two pronged attack! APB out on these two men! Consider them armed and extremely dangerous!" Tim yelled to the other members of Rick Halls team.

"Do it!" Rick confirmed.

"Tim, Ziva, what's going on?" Stan was confused.

"Jack Chapman is the son of Rene Benoit, also known as Le Grenouille, the Frog, an international arms dealer."

"Yeah, Jen was suspected of killing him a couple of years ago."

"Well, my guess is Jack Chapman is going to kill her, innocent or not. We have to stop both of them, and save everyone. Right now, Jen is on the tenth floor, basically trapped. They start a fire in the building, she could be dead by the time the fire crews get to her. We need to stop them."

"Tim, these guys are expecting you, they seem to know you, what makes you think we can take them out?" Stan asked, wondering what Tim had planned.

"Because DeLa Tour thinks he knows me, well, there is someone I know he doesn't." With that, Tim made a call, a number he thought he would never need.


	17. Chapter 17

"Stan, we've had an explosion!" Bryn Fillmore shouted across the bullpen.

"Where?" Stan was moving to see the screen.

"Restaurant, downtown, Zaytinyas," Bryn said in shock, looking at Tim, realisation spreading across his face.

"He's had me under surveillance."

"Tim?" Stan questioned.

"I was there Saturday night, some guy knocked Cassie. He must have been a plant, acting on orders from the traitor." Tim's mind was whirling, his mom and sister now entrusted to a man Tim once trusted and respected. "Stan, if I don't go, any money other bombs will go off, in places that are linked to me in some way. The farmers market, the theatre district. Stan, I have to go." Tim was moving for the stairs.

"Tim, I can't let you leave."

"If you don't, the body count is going to go up. Monitor me on CCTV, any money the guy has a tracker on my car somewhere, so he knows I'm coming. Tell the White House, I've been there quite a bit. Lock it down." Tim moved to leave, hearing Bryns voice once again.

"Second explosion, Zaytinyas. My God, he's taken out the first responders, we have ambulances and police cars down."

"Tim, go, we'll send backup." Stan ordered, knowing he was ordering the man to his almost certain death. "Get me the White House!"

* * *

Secret Service Agent Calvin Murs hung up the phone to NCIS Special Agent Stan Burley, watching the carnage at Zaytinyas. He began barking orders at his team.

"People, we have a suspected bomb somewhere on the grounds. We are moving Eowyn, repeat we are moving Eowyn. Converge on the Citadel!" Murs was taking no chances.

"Third explosion! Mackenzie and Allens!" shouted out Ian Warch, standing at the operations desk. Ian Warch wondered how many people were in the suit makers at this time on a Wednesday.

"I need everyones locations! NOW! Evacuate via the Treasury Tunnel!"

"We have dogs on the grounds, but nothing so far!" Kelly Wilson was monitoring the feeds from the White House CCTV.

"Lock this building down, now! Move to the Citadel! Increase to Condition Omicron! Transfer control to Citadel! Confirm?"

"Confirmed. Signal away. Transfer is complete. Lockdown has been initiated. Stations reporting Omicron Status."

"Confirm locations and statuses of all Alpha Whites, Greys and Blacks."

"We have confirmed reports already in, all Alpha Whites confirmed, awaiting on Greys, all Blacks confirmed."

"Who hasn't confirmed?" This was not good.

"Alpha Grey Sierra and Alpha Grey Yankee." Definitely not good.

"We need to know where Shepard and Vance are, and if they have been compromised." Calvin Murs had one mission now. To get President Anna Elliott into the Citadel, located ten meters below the Situation Room, a steel bunker surrounded by concrete. He only hoped she would go willingly. He had once threatened to carry her, if he had to, he hoped that threat would not need to be carried out today.

* * *

"Tim, you cannot be serious?!" Ben Oswald was not happy right now. "This guy has killed two of my guys, along with God knows how many with his bombs."

"If I don't go, he will set off more bombs and kill my sister and mother. What would you do?" Tim asked, moving quickly for his car.

"The same," Ben admitted. "Here, take my car." Ben offered, worried about Tim driving his own,

"No, he's got a GPS marker on my car, he's going to be tracking me all the way there. You can follow me on CCTV, I have back up on the way, as well." Tim hoped his six was covered.

"Tim, I'm going to send agents to cover you from a distance. I'll get snipers in the building covering you."

Ben watched as Tim drove off, not knowing if he would ever see the brave young man again.

* * *

"Oh, Tim, you are so predictable." Michael DeLa Tour sat in his blacked out SUV, Sarah and Alice McGee sat in the back, handcuffed, their mouths covered in tape. He reached for his phone, calling his best friend. "Jacques, the Director is yours to do with as you wish." He ended the call, not caring about his former boss. "Well, ladies, it seems your family genius is on his way. I have no doubt that DoN snipers will be in the buildings minutes after he arrives, but they won't be there quick enough."

* * *

Jacques Benoit, aka Jack Chapman, could see Tims apartment through the spotter. The curtains were closed, but that was not a problem for him. He would soon be able to see into the apartment, and he would watch Jennifer Shepard, his fathers murderer, die. He mounted the launcher to his shoulder, taking aim at the balcony floor, wanting to cause an explosion and create as much debris as possible. He could easily fire a hundred bullets into the apartment, but then she would die quickly. The debris and impact from the explosion would tear her body apart, causing a lot of pain before her death.

The woman hidden behind the curtain had caused him so much pain. She had sent a man undercover to seduce his sister, leaving her heartbroken, had his mothers home bugged. Due to his change of name, and his unknown loyalty to his father, he had never been tracked by NCIS and the woman who had hurt his family. Now he would repay her for all the pain she had inflicted.

Lifting the launcher, he brought the target to his eye, seeing the apartment through the cross hairs. His mind wandered, wondering if the woman could feel the target on her. He pressed the button, launching the rocket propelled grenade into the apartments balcony. He watched as the balcony exploded, the force of the explosion blowing shrapnel and concrete through the broken windows. This was the last thing he saw as a bullet tore through his head, breaking through his skull to embed itself in the floor behind him. Jacques Benoit would never know if the woman was dead or not.

* * *

The sniper looked through his magnifier attached to the rifle, watching as the man fell down dead. He was too late, the launcher had been fired. He began moving quickly, knowing there was little time to lose. He hit the preprogrammed number, waiting to be picked up.

"He's dead, he fired a rocket launcher." He ended the call, knowing focus was key at this point.

* * *

Tim got out of his car, armed with nothing but knowledge. The message from Sarahs phone told him to come to this play park, where the only other car was SUV. He knew that the traitor was in there, along with mom and little sister. He hoped his backup was there.

"Hello, Tim, its been awhile." Michael DeLa Tour was now blonde, his eyes now green instead of their previous blue, Tim guessed at coloured contact lenses. "You look good, my friend, been hitting the gym. Cassie must like her man with some muscle." Michael never forgot the pleasantries.

"Traitor, how is the knee? Any problems I can make worse?" Tim smiled at the man, knowing he was about to die.

"No, the doctors seemed to do good work in patching me up. Tell me, Tim, do you know what day it is today?" Michael wondered how much Tim remembered about him.

"It's your birthday," Tim replied. "Don't look so shocked, I've been re-reading your file over the last several weeks, ever since you got set loose by your crazy friend."

"Now, Tim, I've have been respectful to you, please do not insult mon cherie, Jacques, when he is not here to defend himself. Most impolite, I thought your father would have taught you manners." Michael had been raised to always be courteous to your enemies, just because you had to kill them did not mean being uncouth.

"He taught me manners, but traitors aren't human, so why treat them the same?" Tim saw him, walking the dog. "Tell me, how did you find out so much about me? Too much has changed since we last saw each other."

"You know many people, Tim, some you speak to, others you don't. Abigail told me much about your life, even if she didn't know what you do now." Michael enjoyed the look of pain that passed over Tims face.

"If she is dead, you will be soon."

"I made Abigail a promise not to kill her, and I did not. Infact, as a captor goes, I was very reasonable, gave her food and water, treated her injuries, and even informed the police of her location. I wonder if she will watch the videos of her interrogation, watch as she gives up everything about you to stop the pain." Michael smiled, egging Tim on.

Tim was using every calming technique he had picked up in therapy, knowing he had to keep his distance from the traitor in front of him. "You are going to die, traitor."

"Tim, please, call me Michael, you used to call me Michael, remember?"

"I used to call you my friend, things change." Tim caught the movement to the side, knowing it now or never. "Tell me, Jacques Benoit, where you and he just friends, or when you were imprisoned, did he lose his boyfriend?"

"Jacques is my best friend, don't try to use our friendship against me."

"Oh, I'm not, I was just wondering, when we bury him, do you want to be buried with him, or next to him, your choice." TIm watched as the fear blossomed in his eyes.

"He's alive."

"He was alive, he's now lying in the apartment block near mine with a bullet in his head, he didn't even get to fire the rocket launcher."

"You're lying, how would you know that? You came straight here, I watched the GPS tracker. He would have seen DoN snipers in the buildings."

"You don't learn, do you? You play the system, I play the people. Benoit should be honored, it's not everyone that can call Gunnery Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs out of retirement. He died by a bullet fired by one of the best snipers the Marines ever produced." Tim knew it was time. "Now its your turn." Tim ducked as the bullets impacted the traitors torso, bursting through, from back to front. Tim looked as the body fell forward, blood pouring out of the wounds. He looked up, watching the man walk towards him. He reached for the hand offered, letting himself be pulled up. Looking his backup in the eye, he saw none of the disdain that was once there.

"Thanks, Tony."

"No problem, Probie."

Please take the poll, let me know what you thought of the reveal at the ned


	18. Chapter 18

"The SUV is as clean as I could see, Tim. No wires underneath."

"If he wanted me dead, I would be. This was to destroy me, the deaths of Jen, my mom and Sarah all at once, and on his birthday. He was too clever by half, had me running in circles." Tim and Tony were using their phones to see underneath the car, using the video camera feature to show the undercarriage of the SUV. "Mom, Sarah, can you hear me?" Ti head muffled sounds. "OK, one person only. One knock, yes, two knocks, no. Is there a bomb in the car?"

_THUD THUD._

"Can we open the door, safely?" Tim was sure his mother and sister would not risk their lives on a chance.

_THUD._

Tim wasted no time, throwing the door open, seeing his mom and sister, bound and gagged. He had not noticed the DoN agents pouring into the car park, along with his father. He and Tony grabbed Sarah, with Tony carrying her away, Tim did the same to his mother, taking her in his arms, the way she would have done to him when he was a baby. Tim moved quickly to his father, knowing to get away from the vehicle so it could be properly checked.

"Mom, did he hurt you, apart from this?" Tim asked, taking the cloth from around her mouth.

"No, Tim, he tried to terrify me, but I'm a lot stronger than he thought. Sarah?"

"I'm fine, Mom. Thank God he's dead, otherwise I'd be chopping things off him." Alice McGee wrapped her now free arms around her youngest child, her husband joining her, her son then completing the family.

"Anthony," Alice McGee said, "We know what happened between you and Timothy. While I can never forget what you have done, I will not forget this either. This family owes you a great debt."

"No, Mrs McGee, I spent years ruining Tims life, and kept finding ways to do so. This was just part of a debt I owe him." Tony knew he had done wrong, and he would find a way to repay him.

"Tony," Tim let go of his family, moving towards his former friend. Taking him in a hug, he said, "Lets start over. It will take time, but we can try to be friends."

* * *

Jen woke up to men all around her, all shouting, some seemed to be moving things. She felt sick and dizzy, and she thought she saw blood on her hands. The last thing she remembered was making a cup of coffee in the kitchen. This action saved her life. The kitchen unit which she fell behind due to the shock wave of the blast had shielded her from the shrapnel of the grenade, as well as the glass and rubble from the balcony. She was not out of danger, though. The whole apartment had been damaged in some way. The Kitchen, while protecting her, had been peppered with rubble and glass, causing things to be hit and fall. Some the pans that had been hanging up had fallen on her, along with some plates that had fallen out of the cupboards.

Her worst injury was from the knife that had been knocked off the worktop, which was now stuck in her back. Her agents were too worried to move her, knowing the slightest knock would make her injuries worse. They were applying pressure to the wounds, keeping the knife and the Director as still as possible.

"Where the hell is the ambulance?" Asked Neil Fox, knowing she needed to get to Bethesda.

"There were explosions across the city. One of the bombs took out first responders." Dan Accrington was worried about the blood loss, like all agents, he had basic first aid training.

"We have to get her to hospital," Neil said. "That, or get her a doctor."

"That kid from Autopsy, he's just qualified as a doctor. Get him on the phone, or here, whichever is quicker."

"On it," Dan got his phone out, dialing the direct number for the MCRT Bullpen, knowing Stan Burley would know where the kid was, not having the number for Autopsy, or for Jimmy Palmer.

"Hang on, Director. Just keep breathing," Neil Fox begged.

* * *

"Tim, Metro PD have found Abigail Scuito, she was in old warehouse in the Industrial District. They are sending her to the hospital."

"Have her transferred to Bethesda, city hospitals are going to be overflowing, right now. That's where my mom and Sarah will be going." Tim told Michelle Danson.

"Tim, I don't need a hospital," his mother began arguing.

"Well, you're going, you too, Sarah. No arguments, I mean it," William McGee had his family back and was taking no chances. "Tim, get your car checked out here, then have it taken back to NCIS. Agent Danson, please arrange transport for my family to Bethesda."

"I need to get back to work, Dad. I'm going to be needed there."

"Tim," Sarah started.

"Sarah, this man planted bombs in places I go to. I need to get other places checked out, make sure there are no more out there." Tim told her, knowing she understood.

"OK." Sarah knew he was right.

"I'll meet you at Bethesda in a bit, ok?" Tim told her, hugging her again.

"Agent Danson, I need a car. Gibbs, Tony, you need to come in as well. You need to be debriefed. Lets go." Tim grabbed a set of keys from Danson, moving quickly, which was becoming the norm for him.

* * *

"_Agent Burley"_

"Madam President." Stan looked at the President on the MTAC screen

"_How many more bombs are you expecting?" _Anna Elliott hated this place, wanting windows to let in some natural light.

"Agent McGee is providing as much information about places he has been over the last month. We are not too sure as of this time."

"_We are sending you help. DEA, FBI, ATF."_

"Ma'am, we need space to do our jobs, not more people. The help may prove to be a hindrance."

"_These people know you are in charge, they will do as you say."_

"Ma'am, with respect, these guys will ignore me in favour of their bosses." Stan knew these guys had their own way of doing things, and would overrule him if they thought he was wrong.

"_Agent Burley, you have taken down two people. They led us all on a merry dance, we don't know how many more of them are out there."_

"Agreed, Ma'am. But we need to form a game plan, what I need is operational support, preferably in SWAT teams or the JTTF." Stan knew his limits, and organizing a citywide lockdown and search was beyond him. "If you could send Deputy Director Vance back to us, that would be great." Stan felt out of his depth at this point.

"_You need to take command there, we can't get anyone else to you right now."_

"What do you need us to do?"

"_Double and triple check everything. The city is in lockdown. Nothing in or out. Roadblocks are everywhere. They are here, find them, everything has to come through the Citadel."_

"Understood, Ma'am." With that the screen went dark, the President of the United States entrusting the safety of the Capitol to him.

* * *

"_Keep the pressure on the wound, make sure her airways stay clear. Keep her warm." _

"Got it, Doc." Neil and Dan had been following Jimmy Palmers instructions for the last ten minutes.

"_How are her eyes?" _Jimmy was praying for the EMTs.

"She's barely conscious, pupils seem sluggish."

"_Feel her legs. Are they cold?"_

"Yes, is that bad?"

"_Very, the blood isn't flowing to her legs properly, and what blood is, isn't hot enough. She properly has internal bleeding from the kidneys." _Jimmy knew the chances of the DIrector surviving were dropping as the spoke. He heard what he wanted seconds later.

"Neil, EMTS on the way up, one minute away."

"_Neil, keep me on the line. I need to brief them on what they need to do."_

"Jimmy, when this is all over, I'm buying you a beer. You have been amazing for the last ten minutes."

"_Once the Director is stable, you can buy me a keg."_

"They're here, Doc," Neil kept his hands around the knife. "Doctor Palmer is on the phone, he's going to brief you. Doc, go ahead."

"_The Director has hit her head, she's barely conscious, dizzy and nauseated. The knife has most probably damaged her kidney, and the impact from the explosion has damaged her spleen." _Jimmy took a breath, looking down at the notes he had made. "_She has been stationary for approximately fifteen minutes. You need to get a line in, 1 litre of saline, call Bethesda, the Director is Blood type A Negative. She's going to need at least three units. When you move her, her BP is going to drop like a rock. Be prepared, you may need to shock her. Understood?_

"Got it, Doc." Said the lead EMT, securing her neck in a collar, his colleague attaching wires to monitor heart rate and pulse.

"_Agent Fox will go with you, he will keep the knife steady. If the knife moves or is retracted, you can cause more damage."_

"Understood, anything else?" the EMT asked, knowing the doctors instructions, given over a telephone without seeing his patients, had more than likely.

"_Yeah, she had an femoral arterial rupture two years ago. No complications or concerns at the time."_

"OK, we need to move, now. That lift better be there, every minute is precious at this time."

Five minutes later, the EMTS had her in the ambulance. That was when she crashed, for the first time.


	19. Chapter 19

Bethesda Naval Hospital

Connie Beecham was waiting at the ER entrance, her patient in critical condition in the ambulance, which Connie could see approaching, its lights flashing, its siren blaring. Control had already reported that she had been shocked once, and was suffering from extremely low blood pressure. Connie knew she had precious moments to stabilize her patient before taking her straight into the operating room. She stood back as the ambulance pulled up, moving to open the doors and get to her patient as quickly as possible.

"How is she?" Connie asked, worried she would lose this woman within the next few minutes.

"Deteriorating. Pulse is at 120, tachycardic, rate of 120, BP is 90 over 50, SATS of 91%, she's had 3 litres of saline, she's had no pain relief due to the low blood pressure and concussion. She has been in and out of consciousness, she has been immobilized since we got to her, her security had a doctor on the phone. They kept pressure on the wound, kept her warm, and raised her legs to maintain circulation."

"Well, at least there is a Doctor who knows what he is doing." Connie was in the States on a temporary exchange transfer, with a US Navy Doctor working in Britain. "We've got blood on the way, how are the legs now? That rupture not burst open?"

"No, but the Doctor, Jimmy Palmer, said there is probable damage to the kidney and spleen. Hence, the low BP and body temp."

"Straight into the Resus room, please," Connie ordered, "Onto the bed as soon as, people. Keep that line in, and pump more saline in. We don't have time for X-Rays, get me the fast scanner. We need to see where the knife is. Judging from the angle, the blade has damaged the kidney, the explosion and impacts damaged the spleen." Connie watched the team get the patient on the bed. "Once the blood gets here, we need-"

"She's crashed!" Shouted Martin Fletcher, a Medical Corpsman.

"Standby to shock, everyone stand clear. Fletch?"

"Charging, clear?"

_**WHOOMPF!**_

"No output." Fletch said, watching the monitors.

"Adrenaline in, begin CPR. Fletch, charge again, standby."

"Adrenalines in," Shouted Tess Bateman, Senior Charge Nurse.

"Fletch?" That one question told the man what to do.

"Stand clear! Shocking!"

**WHOOMPF!**

"No change," said Fletch

"Shock her again."

"No output."

"360."

"Charging, clear?"

**WHOOMPF!**

"We have an output."

"Rapid infuser, get that blood into her. Tell the OR we are coming down. If we don't go now, she won't come back next time."

"We have more wounded coming in."

Connie looked behind her, seeing one of the other doctors.

"What's happened?" Connie said, needing to know what was going on.

"The city hospitals are overcrowded, we are taking in the less serious casualties."

"Fine," Connie snapped, knowing she could focus on her patient.

"Status." Waiting for the team to report.

"BP is still low, but pulse and heart rate are steady, but still tachycardic. SATS improving to 93%," Tess reported.

"Let's move to the OR, we need to get the knife out," Connie was holding the mini portable X RAY machine over her patient. "Its tip has punctured the kidney, and there is fluid around it. Let's go, now!" Connie was not hopeful for this patient. She had crashed twice now, and Connie didn't know how much more this poor woman could take.

* * *

Twenty minutes lates, Tim, Gibbs and DiNozzo were stood in the Bullpen, almost like it had been in the past. This was different, Tim was the one giving the orders, along with Stan Burley., the two of them coordinating a search of the most likely points any more bombs could have been placed.

"The coffee shop on 23rd Street, along with the bookstore," Tim said, naming the final places he could remember being in the last three months.

"OK. Get agents to those locations, they need evacuating and the buildings searched, from top to bottom. We don't know how long those bombs were placed, or what they look like. Be on your guard, people," Stan was addressing NCIS agents, along with DEA, ATF, and FBI. There were also people listening in on conference calls. "Get to it."

Stan turned to look at Tim, Gibbs and DiNozzo, seeing three faces showing a lot of concern.

"Tim, check on Intelligence, make sure it's all going ok. Then get back to me." Stan watched him walk away, Tim running to do his job. "Well, Gibbs, glad to know your head isn't so far up DiNozzos backside that you can still think for yourself." Gibbs took the comment without a word, but Tony DiNozzo still hadn't learned when to stay quiet.

"Look here, Burley…" He started, not expecting Stan to turn on him.

"No! You look here, DiNozzo! I was there when Tim first got back from Pendleton. I saw and heard everything Gibbs said to him, including your version of events!" Tony now knew why Stan had said what he did. "Saving Tims family is one thing, but don't even think it washes away everything you have said and done to him. You need to explain yourself to him, both of you. If he tells you to stay away from him after today, then you do so. Hurt him again, and I will make sure hell pays you a visit soon."

"What's up, Stan? Too chicken to do it yourself?" Tony smirked at him.

"Not at all. I just think Ziva David can do a better job at killing you and disposing of the bodies than I can." Tonys smirk disappeared, knowing that Ziva could carry out Stans threat without a second thought. "Now, you two know where the conference room is. Get in there and stay there."

"Stan…" Gibbs began, wanting to be of use.

"No, Gibbs. I know you. You want to help, but these people need only one voice giving commands, and today, it's me. You would cause confusion. I'm sorry, but it's the way it has to be." Stan knew Gibbs was still an amazing agent, but he needed his people focused.

"Of course, come on, Tony, let's get out of the way."

"Sure, Boss," the Italian man said, sending a death glare towards the acting head of NCIS. Stan watched them leave, sending another prayer for Jennifer Shepard.

* * *

"OK, Abby," Dr Charlie Hanna said, "Your nails on your toes will grow back, but it will take time. There is no sign of infection in any of you injuries, but we are starting you on a course of antibiotics, just to make sure. We are going to keep you in for a few days, just to treat your malnutrition and dehydration." Charlie was surprised the woman had survived the pain of the torture. "When you need to use the bathroom, call a nurse. You are going to be in a wheelchair for a few days." Seeing Abbys look of confusion, he spoke again. "I know you can walk, but we want to keep as much pressure off your feet as possible, so you are confined to bed while you stay here. If the healing keeps up, we will try you with walking short distances, OK?"

"Sure, Doctor Hanna. I need to let some people know where I am," Abby wondered if Gibbs would even take her call.

"I've been told to inform you that Gibbs and DiNozzo will be by later, and will bring you clothes and whatever else you may need," Dr Hanna wasn't told who they were, or their first names.

"Thanks," Abby said, smiling. "Can you tell me how Sarah and Mrs McGee are? Please?" Abby knew she wasn't family, heck, she wasn't even NCIS, let alone Navy, but she was being treated in Bethesda.

"They are both fine, no injuries, but a bit shaken. Would you like them to visit?"

"Please." Abby had to tell them about why she told him about them. She had to ask for forgiveness for nearly getting them killed.

"I will ask them to stop by, now, try and get some rest." Dr Hanna left her alone, moving to the nurses station. "She is going to be having visitors, but try to keep them short. If she won't sleep, give her 10mg of Phenobarbitone, keep the saline going for another two bags. Obs every ten minutes for the next four hours, then every half hour. I'll be back to check on her in a little while." Dr Hanna began moving to the ER, where every Navy medical corpsman and doctor was right now.

* * *

"Suction," Dr Beecham ordered. Fletch put the suction in, clearing the blood around the kidney. "Better, ok, two more sutures to go, the spleen seems to be healing on its own, which is good. Stats?"

"BP and Heart rate are normal, SATS at 97%," reported Tess, relieved to see the woman fighting.

"OK, lets keep it there. One more suture to go, Fletch, suction." Connie was almost finished, when the area around the kidney began filling with bloon again. "That blood is not from the kidney. Fast scanner, now!" Connie knew there was another bleed, somewhere. Tess had the scanner over the area, moving quickly to cover the area. "There," Connie spotted it, "A small tear to the upper part of the stomach. Damn. People, we need to finish on the kidney, then prepare to stretch the incision to get to the stomach." Connie knew the amount of blood she had lost was damaging to the body, so she had to work quickly now.

* * *

"Boss, is Stan right? Will McGee ever forgive us for how we treated him?"

"Depends, DiNozzo. Can you speak to him as he is now? Can you see the man he is instead of the man he was?" Gibbs did not shoot that man for Tim, he did it because it was the right thing to do, regardless of anything else. He wasn't sure he could say the same for DiNozzo.

"Gibbs, it's just, I mean, McGoo didn;t learn half as much as me from you, he must have pulled some strings to get those assignments?" Tony looked at Gibbs hopefully. "Right?"

"No, Tony. Tim got everything through hardwork. When I left NCIS, Fornell told me that he had asked for McGees transfer two years ago, and there was a queue of people wanting him. He is where he deserves to be, and we are where we deserve to be." Gibbs spoke with resolution.

"I wouldn't say that, Jethro, you did good work today, both of you," Leon Vance said from the door, having overheard most of the conversation. "You helped save the lives of Tims family, the Director, her security detail plus God knows how many others. And you did it all without an NCIS badge on your belt. You may not have been the best agents we ever had, but you are two of the bravest men in the country, regardless of my personal feelings. I just stopped by to say thank you." Looking at DiNozzo, he decided to tell the man a little about his former colleague.

"DiNozzo, do you know how many requests Agent McGee had before he joined NCIS? Three, DOD, FBI, NSA. Since he joined NCIS, that number has gone through the roof, with every agency and taskforce wanting him on board. At first, it was just his computer skills, but after a year with Gibbs, it was for his dedication and work ethic." Vance knew Shepard would never say half of this to them, but he would, not having the same personal connection that Jen had, "Colonel Hollis Mann wanted him, Fornell wanted him, NSA, CIA, DOD, every few months, they wanted him. When he was at SpecOps, he got better results than Powell. As head of NCIS Intelligence, he is still in high demand, his results are outstanding, his teams performance is getting better every week. He may not be you, Gibbs, he may not be you, DiNozzo, but like I said in Cali, that's no bad thing. I doubt he wants the job, but Timothy McGee is on the fast track for the Directors chair, whether you two think he is up to the job or not." Vance hoped his little speech got through to them, Tim McGee had grown up, he had changed, and they had to see that. "Again, thank you for your actions today. They are appreciated and will be remembered." With that, Vance left, glad to be back watching over his people.

He left behind two people, sitting in contemplation, wondering why they had never seen it before.


	20. Chapter 20

_**WARNING: Shocking scene, you have been warned.**_

"Mrs McGee," Abby watched as Tims mom came into her room.

"Abigail, how are you feeling?" Alice McGee had visited many people in hospital, often with the wives of the men under her husbands command, and on occasion, husbands visiting wives. She knew how Abby Scuito was feeling.

"I'm OK, how's Sarah? And you? He got you, didn't he?" Abby talked quickly, hating herself for what she done.

"We are both fine. He didn't hurt us in the physical sense. Sarah and I will probably have nightmares for a few weeks, but we will be fine. You should worry about yourself." Alice knew the young woman had been tortured.

"It's all my fault, though."

"How do you come to that? Did you willingly tell him everything?" Alice asked.

"What?! No!" Abby exclaimed. "I would never do that!"

"Abby, I was told he tortured you." Alice saw the woman nod. "You are not a soldier, and even the best soldiers cannot hold out under torture. You have survived, physically at least. Let me tell you some secrets about getting over this." She had seen many soldiers and sailors lying in bed, their bodies mutilated, their souls destroyed by torture. "It takes time. There is no cure, it is a disease you will suffer for the rest of your life. But, like many illnesses, it can be controlled. Therapy and good friends are the best treatment." Alice watched the tears slide down Abbys face. "I tell you this as a woman who has seen men and women suffer what you have gone through. Anything you told that man, true or not, I do not blame you. Either way, he would have got what he wanted. He is to blame, not you."

"But what I did was unforgivable!" Abby shouted.

"If you had done it willingly, yes, but you did not. He forced it out of you, it takes someone with enormous self control and willpower not to succumb to torture, and these people are few and far between. There is nothing to forgive, Abby." Alice McGee knew there was nothing she could say to Abby to get her to forgive herself. "Get some rest. Talk to your friends and family, they will help you more than you know. I'll let you sleep, trust me, you will sleep for a while." Alice got up from the chair, moving towards the door. "Abby, it will take time, but you will begin to feel normal, you will never be the same as you were before, but your old self will come back." Alice watched the woman lie back down, the tears falling onto the pillow. She hoped that Sarah and Tim never went through what Abby had.

* * *

"Tim."

"Leon, what are you doing here? You should still be under protection." Tim was amazed Ben Oswold had allowed him to return.

"With Chapman and DeLa Tour dead, and no more bombs, the President has allowed me to return, but she is keeping my family under protection, along with the lockdown." Vance had been relieved to get back to work. "What has your team been up to?"

"Tracking how the two traitors got as far as they did. We took pictures and tried to get facial recognition on them. They had both altered their facial structures using implants in the mouth." Tim had been astonished. "As long as they didn't talk, if they were caught on CCTV we couldn't match them to the wanted list. We put in their new details, and the whole system flashed up. It seems they were in Somalia around the time the Adala Brothers showed up."

"Why were they there? They selling them information?" Vance was now very worried.

"No, Sam Stevens has been interrogating the prisoners. One of them has started talking. The traitors set up the training camps, and gave the ideas to get to America, how to avoid satellites, just enough so we couldn't track them all the time, but not enough to have everything transfered to the CIA. He wanted us watching the AMI so we weren't focusing on him here. They kept us distracted long enough to wreck havoc here." Tim knew this was DeLa Tours revenge, or part of it anyway. "Him and Chapman had this planned for a long time. My guess is it was their backup plan, if either of them were captured. Create a fake terrorist cell, generate a few threats. But I think targeting the Director was an addition to their plan. They could have gone after me without threatening you and Jenny, but Chapman wanted to kill her, while that traitor went after me."

"Thanks to you, they can never hurt any again. Tim, why did you bring in Gibbs and DiNozzo? I thought they would be the last two people you would trust with this." Vance wanted answers to this puzzle.

"That's why it had to be them. They would have expected agents or DoN security turning up, but not two people I no longer talk to. When I was in the CTOC, the traitor knew about what happened, he knew I no longer talked to them." Tim had told him about it when he had him and Kei over for dinner one night. "He had been watching me, probably saw me and Gibbs argue, saw we weren't friends. He wasn't counting on me not bringing anyone, just me bringing anyone but those two. Gibbs was a marine sniper, he had to protect Jen, and DiNozzo can move quickly and quietly, he can blend in anywhere. That's why he was my backup. He saved my family, and for that, he will always have my gratitude."

"Tim, he still won't be able to get a job here, though. He'll ask for it." Vance knew DiNozzos type, always thought they could get whatever they wanted.

"He can ask, but it's not my decision. That will be Jens decision when she gets back. Have you heard anything from Bethesda?" Tim knew who was still there.

"Your mother and sister have been released, already. Miss Scuito will be staying for a few days, they want to make sure there is no lasting damage. The Director is still in surgery, last I heard, it wasn't good." Vance was dreading a phone call saying she had died.

* * *

It had been three hours since Jenny Shepard had been brought into Bethesda Naval Hospital, and Connie Beecham was now out of surgery. She had repaired three different internal injuries, all of which had taken a massive toll on her patient. She had crashed four times in theatre while Connie was repairing the damage. She now had to make a phone call to the womans next of kin. Sitting in the Doctors shared office, she opened her patients file, dialing a number for the Secretary of the United States Navy. It rang only once.

"_Davenport," _came the brusque voice answering the telephone.

"Mr Secretary, this is Connie Beecham, Director Shepards doctor at Bethesda." Connie was shaking, from exhaustion and adrenaline withdrawal.

"_How is she, Doctor?" _Philip Davenport cared for Shepard more than he had any other NCIS employee, except for Tim McGee.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but Director Shepard died while in surgery." Connie hated this part of her job. She say in silence, waiting for the Secretary to speak. Almost a minute passed before he spoke again.

"_What happened?" _Philip Davenport was in shock, knowing Shepard had survived the femoral rupture in her leg, as well as numerous injuries throughout her career.

"The knife that had penetrated her kidney, had also torn her stomach. She had damage to the spleen from the explosion, when she impacted the wall. These injuries were too much, she had lost too much blood." Connie knew there would be an autopsy, carried out at NCIS. "We transfused more than ten units into her, but she kept crashing. We resuscitated her seven times since she was brought in. Her heart couldn't take any more. I am sorry, Sir, but there was nothing more we could do for her." Connie truly hated having to tell people this sort of news.

"_Thank you, Doctor, for you efforts today. Please, prepare the Director for transfer to NCIS. An autopsy will need to be carried out."_ With that, Philip Davenport ended the call, giving in to his grief.

Connie Beecham sat in her office, tears coming down her face. She had watched as Jennifer Shepard kept coming back, as if she was fighting Death herself. As a Doctor, Connie knew Death came for everyone, and always won, but Jenny Shepard had put up one heck of a fight. She reached once again for the telephone, needing to make arrangements for the Directors transfer.


	21. Chapter 21

Tim walked into the conference room with Stan Burley, having just left the Bullpen and the Intelligence floor, leaving behind a devastated staff. There were no words of comfort that Tim could offer anyone.

"Tim, what's wrong? Is it Sarah?" DiNozzo blurted out. "Your mom?"

"No, um...the Director… was caught in the explosion. She was thrown by it, into the worktop of the kitchen. She had um… been making a sandwich. A knife fell and... and…" Tim was losing the ability to speak.

"The knife stabbed her, hitting her stomach and kidney," Stan continued, looking at Gibbs, while McGee focused on the view out of the window. "She got to Bethesda, they operated, but she had lost too much blood, they had to resuscitate seven times. Gibbs, she didn't make it off the table," Stan watched as his mentor paled, his knees giving out. Stan moved to catch him before he fell all the way to the floor.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no." Gibbs babbled. Stan wrapped his arms around Gibbs, the tears coming fast. DiNozzo moved to Tim, taking his probie in his arms. All four men cried, their grief filling the air, none of them having any words to speak.

* * *

Deputy Director Jerome Craig sat at his desk, the tears falling from his face on to the paper of the open report he had been reading. He called his wife, knowing Tanya would be just as upset as he was. Tanya had known Jenny for more than fifteen years, and Jenny had been a guest at their wedding.

"Tanya," Jerome began.

"What's happened? Is it one of the teams?" Tanya knew her husband very well. He may not show it, but he cared very deeply about the teams under his command, the CTOC and the MCRT being his top two. Tanya had never been able to have children, and they had decided not to adopt, as their lifestyle of moving around due to Jeromes job would not be the best way to raise a child. Tanya focused her time and effort into charities in the cities they had lived in, and offered her services as a babysitter to those agents and NCIS employees with children, while Jerome did his best to keep them safe.

"No. Tanya, there is no easy way to say this, so, I'm sorry, baby, but Jenny Shepard died today."

"Oh, God, no!" Tanya screamed, the tears starting immediately. These would be just one set of tears that would be cried this day.

* * *

Ricardo Balboa sat at his desk, in shock over the news he had just heard. He knew he had to tell his team what had just happened in Washington DC.

"Everyone, listen up," Ric looked at his team, watching as every head turned to face him. "There was a threat against the lives of Director Shepard and Deputy Director Vance. The threat came from Michael DeLa Tour." Kei and Amanda looked livid, Ric felt the same way. "He went after Tim, as well as his mom and sister. He didn't hurt any of them, but Director Shepard was targeted by an RPG. She survived the initial attack, but suffered internal injuries from the impact of the explosion. I'm sorry to have to tell you that Jenny Shepard did not survive the surgery."

"That son of a bitch," Kei screamed.

"Tell me that traitor is dead?!" Amanda Ryan demanded. If he wasn't, she was going after him.

"He was shot to death trying to confront Tim."

"Still too good for him," Sunaina Sato said with venom in her voice.

Xander was in shock over the news, Lucille and Nikki were both crying. Like Tim, the two women had been assigned to the Navy Yard for several years, and had interacted with the Director more than anyone else other than Ric.

"At this time, Deputy Director Craig has asked that we continue in our roles as best we can. There will be a funeral in Washington, as well as a memorial at the Navy Yard. Of course, we will honour her here as well." Ric would make sure that Jenny Shepard would not be forgotten.

* * *

"Hetty."

"Owen, you sound terrible." Hetty Lange sat at her desk in the OSP in Los Angeles.

"I've got some bad news, Hetty." Owen Grainger found the words hard to speak.

"Owen, what has happened?"

"This has not been made public yet, but the President will let the public know soon. Director Shepard was the target of an assassin in Washington. He was shot and killed, but it was too late. He missed her, but the explosion from an RPG caused considerable damage. She died on the operating table. Most of the details are still unknown at this point." Owen Grainger had kept a personal distance from Jenny Shepard. He believed that you couldn't be hurt if you didn't get to know them. He now knew this was a lie.

"Oh, no," Hetty said. Henrietta Lange had worked for many years with Jenny Shepard, having worked as the Head of Operations at the Alliance Base in Paris with her. She was a firm believer that Jenny Shepard would have been the first female Secretary of the Navy when Philip Davenport retired. "Do you need me to do anything, Owen?"

"Let your team know. The funeral will be in Washington, and each NCIS office will be allowed their own memorial ceremony for her. Other than that, Acting Director Vance has asked that we continue the mission. To keep this country safe." Owen Grainger knew that saying. _To keep this country safe _had been a favourite of Jenny Shepards.

"Of course. If you need anything…" Hetty had once tried to kill Owen Grainger, but that didn't mean she had no respect for him. Also, that had been many years ago.

"Thank you, Hetty. Please inform your team." With that, Owen ended the call, having many more calls to make, all of which would be the same as this one.

Hetty put the phone down, in shock over these events. She stood up and moved over to where here senior four agents sat. "Mr Callen, could you gather everyone, please."

"Of course," G was confused by Hettys demand, but did it anyway.

"Hetty, everything good?" Sam Hanna knew something was up with his boss.

"No, Mr Hanna, there is nothing good, right now." G, Sam, Kensi Blye and Marty Deeks knew something very, very bad had happened. Hetty climbed one of the many staircases in the OSP, this was so everyone could see her. She watched as everyone gathered on the open plan floor, as well as the balcony and staircases. Once there was silence, Hetty told them news she wished never had to deliver again. "What I am about to tell you has not been made public, but it will be. Until then, you will tell no one what I am about to tell you. Earlier today, Director Shepard was the target of an assassin. While he did not kill her, he had caused an explosion which resulted in internal damage. Director Shepard died on the operating table." The silence inside the OSP was deafening.

* * *

Abigail Borin sat at her desk, and cried. She wasn't NCIS but had worked for Jenny Shepard under joint NCIS/CGIS operations. Borin had even been offered a job with NCIS by the Director. Borin admired Jenny Shepard more than any other woman other than the President and her own mother.

Jenny Shepard, in Borins eyes, had been one of the best agency directors the United States had even seen. She looked after her agents, cared more about the law and seeing justice done than about public perception and politics. Borin had never worked with Acting Director Vance, but knew the man had some very big, and very high heeled, shoes to fill.

* * *

Paula Cassidy looked out onto the floor of SpecOps. She remembered the last time she had spoken with the Director in person. It had been in her office on the Navy Yard. Paula had had two separate meetings, or rather, interviews with her for the position of Head of Special Operations. This meeting was to tell her if she had gotten the job.

_Flashback_

"_Paula, come in, sit down, I'll be a moment." Paula moved to sit on the sofa, knowing the Director preferred sitting there during one on one meetings. She watched as the Director signed several pieces of paper, before closing the file. "Can I get you anything?"_

"_No, thank you, Director." Paula knew she hated being called Madam Director, and just about tolerated Ma'am._

"_If you had a choice, who would replace you as the leader of MCRT, Pentagon?" Jen asked._

"_Rick Hall." There was no hesitation in her voice._

"_Excellent. His promotion is practically a given, and he will get the position of Team Lead of an MCRT, but I was thinking of giving him command of the second MCRT attached to the Navy Yard. Think he could still do a good job?" Jen asked._

"_Yes, Ma'am, absolutely." Paula was very happy that, Rick deserved the promotion._

"_Good, because you won't be able to provide much assistance, Agent Cassidy, or should I say SAC Cassidy," Jen said, smiling widely at the woman across from her._

"_I got the job?" Paula asked in disbelief._

"_You got the job, Paula. Leon, Jerome, Owen, SECNAV and myself are in complete agreement, for a change, on this one. Congratulations."_

"_Thank you, Director. What about Tim?" Paula asked, hoping she hadn't taken his job._

"_Tim never wanted the job, temporarily or not. He will be very happy to give it up. But I have to warn you." Jen felt it only fair on the woman._

"_About what?" Jen asked, worriedly._

"_Tim has done an amazing job down there. Too good, actually. Leon wants to keep him there."_

"_How amazing are we talking, Director?" Paula was worried she would not be able to match Tim successes._

"_Productivity is up by twelve percent, and job satisfaction up by nine."_

"_What the hell has Tim been doing down there? He's only been there two months." Paula was shocked at those numbers._

"_Buying muffins, and working the late shifts, according to the reports. This has made him more approachable as well as in touch with analysts and technicians who work the later shifts." Jen was wondering if Paula would adopt a similar style._

"_Well, I can see working different shift patterns would help, definitely fits in with the "_If I can do it, you can do it" _approach Tim has. Let me guess, he got them muffins because they were working late. Well, later than usual." Paula said, having stayed in touch with Tim over the last three and a half years, mostly by email and Team Leader teleconferences._

"_That's the one. You going to follow in his footsteps?" Jen was curious how Agent Cassidy would operate at Camp Pendleton._

"_I'm not sure yet. I'll be their third boss in as many months. Plus, this is a permanent move. I'll give it some thought, though." Paula would have to give it some serious thought if she wanted to keep those figures as high as they were._

"_Tell me, where do you see Tim McGee in five years?" Jen threw this at Paula Cassidy._

"_Excuse me?" Paula was shocked at this question._

"_Don't worry, I'm not looking for gossip. But, you are one of several people who will remember that young man who sat across from Gibbs, who would stammer and struggle to stand up for himself." Jen had a hard time seeing that McGee with the one she had spoken to several days previously via teleconference._

"_After having spoken to Tim over the past three years, and knowing what he has done and what he can do, I'd say in five years he could be one of the youngest Deputy Directors in NCIS history." Paula said, not sugarcoating the truth from her boss._

"_Glad we are on the same page." Jen admitted._

_End Flashback._

Paula stood up for her desk, feeling the tears forming in her eyes. As she looked out, seeing Cameron Madden and Karl Livingstone having a joke over something, more than likely their latest attempts to get each other a partner. She hated giving out bad news, but this was one of the worst she had ever had to give.


	22. Chapter 22

Tim stood in his new kitchen, him and Cassie having moved into a house after what had happened at the apartment. Most of their belongings had been undamaged, but the sofa and chairs had been ruined. Tim had put down the deposit on the place straight away, determined to get out of the rental market. He and Cassie had returned to the apartment only once, Tim refusing to return there any more, knowing if he had not recommended it, Jenny Shepard might still be alive. Tim had spoken to Jay Block several times over the last three months, knowing his guilt was self manufactured. Tim knew that if Jacques Benoit wanted Jenny Shepard dead, he would have killed her, one way or another.

Tim watched as Cassie prepared her go bag, being called to help a smuggling operation at Pearl Harbor. Tim wondered who would get to see her in the bikini and sarong she had packed.

"OK, I think I'm ready to go." Cassie declared, closing her bag for the last time.

"You sure?" Tim smirked at her. "You got a camera in there?"

"Why do I need a camera?" Cassie asked, confused.

"I want pictures of you in the bikini and sarong," Tim whispered in her ear, taking her in his arms, knowing he wouldn't get to hold her for another week, possibly two.

"Look, me and Bryn deserve this. We are in Hawaii for the case, and then three to five days leave. Just us girls. Besides, it's not like you and Jimmy won't be doing whatever it is you do when we are not around." The two couples had become fast friends, spending at least one night a week in each others company. "The two of you can hit the sports bars, scream at the umpires for bad calls, or something," Cassie mocked, knowing Tim hated sports bars.

"You know me and Jimmy so well," Tim played along. He and Jimmy had not planned anything for when Cassie and Bryn were away. Tim had plans to get the house much more organized, as well get started on his level ten cyber qualifications. "We might even hit the student bars," Tim wiggled his eyebrows at her.

_BBBBEEEEEEEEPPPP_

"That's Bryn," Cassie said, unwrapping herself from Tim. Tim grabbed her bag, walking her to the car. "You going to be okay?" Cassie knew Tim almost as well as she did herself. She was worried leaving him alone, even after three months, he would begin to wallow in his guilt, continue to overanalyze the day of Jennys death.

"I'll be fine. I've got a thousand things to do in the house, as well as at work." Tim was doing his best not to restart his self destruction over Michael DeLa Tour. The man had tried to destroy him, and almost succeeded. Tim would not allow him to win, even if he was dead and Tim was alive. "Call me when you can, and remember the time difference." Tim knew the time difference had been a struggle when he was in California.

"I will, I'll see you soon," Cassie kissed him on the path, not caring who saw her. They didn't know their new neighbours well, but she wanted to make sure any women in the neighbourhood knew this man was taken. "I love you."

"I love you," Tim said, moving to put the bag in the trunk of the car. "Hey, Jimmy, thanks for taking them." Tim shouted to the driver.

"You can pick them up," Dr Palmer called out.

"Deal," Tim and Jimmy had come to this arrangement when they were first told about the trip. "Jimmy, did you check Bryns luggage before you left?" Tim asked, deliberately not looking at Cassie or Bryn.

"No, why? Should I have?" Jimmy asked, confused by Tims question.

"Well, Cassie has packed a bikini, just wondering what her and Bryn will get up to with us not there." Tim teased.

"Well, Bryn knows no matter what, no man will love her more than me, even if he has a six pack, biceps and an even bigger wallet." Jimmy said, his eyes full of love for the woman sat next to him.

"Bryn, I'll fight you for him." Cassie said, glaring at her boyfriend.

"You have your man, sister, I have mine, and that's the way it is staying," Bryn declared, kissing her boyfriend.

"Call me, every day, I mean it," Tim whispered, once again hugging her, wishing she didn't have to go.

"I will, I promise," Cassie hugging him just as hard.

* * *

Two hours later, Tim was sat in the Directors office, but with a different person in the chair.

"Tim, I have read your six month review of the Intelligence section. Once again, you have exceeded yourself and expectations. Increased employee satisfaction, increased productivity, not to mention the comments and compliments that have come through to myself, SECNAV, and Director Shepard." Tim grimaced at the last name mentioned, his guilt still troubling him. "Your suggestions regarding reassignments and promotions are acceptable, and will be actioned as soon as they can be, once new positions are available. As you know, Tim, when I took this job, it was on the understanding I got to name my successor." Tim looked up, knowing he was not going to get the job, and he would do his best to avoid it, for the next thirty years. "Who you would you recommend to take over the open Deputy Director spot?"

"Vera Strickland is one possibility, Sam Stevens another, Derrick Young could also do the job. You could possibly get someone from another agency. Peter Wilson at NSA, or Harriet Armand at the NRO. All five of them could do the job." Tim offered these people, knowing these were just random names off the top of his head.

"Vera has turned the job down, as has had Sam. Derrick has been approached, he hasn't made a decision yet. As you know, the post means relocating. You can say one thing about NCIS staff, job satisfaction and doing it well is their top priority. Taking a promotion is almost considered blasphemy, as is naming your friends for the top spot." Tim watched as the newly installed Director smirked at him. "Both Ricardo Balboa and Stan Burley have been offered the position. Ric, as you can imagine, turned it down, politely according to himself, others have a rather different view of that. My ears are still ringing from the volume of his voice, and my wife would have washed his mouth out with soap for his language." Tim could only think what Ric had said to that idea. "Stan Burley, on the other hand, has acquitted himself admirably over the last four years here in Washington. His actions six months ago, as well as his continued devotion since then got him the nomination. He took on some of the additional responsibilities of the Deputy position, as did yourself, Derrick Young and Paula Cassidy. Derrick has turned down the offer, not wanting to move. Stan, however, he is more than happy for the move."

"Good for him," Tim said, hoping he enjoyed California much more than he did. "How has your move gone, Sir?"

"Better than I would have dared dream, Tim. Believe me, when you have done as much globetrotting as I have done, all you need is a bed to sleep in, and a decent shower in the morning." The Director said. "I will miss the city though, I had truly learned to love it there."

"As had I, Director." Tim really missed Jacksonville, and hoped to return there soon.

"Let's hope Leon enjoys it as much as we did." Director Jerome Craig stood, preferring to be official at times like this. "SSA Timothy McGee, I am very pleased to confirm to you that your probationary period has now ended, and you are able to continue in the role of Head of Intelligence, NCIS. You will be promoted to GS-12, step 5. I hope to see your continued dedication to this agency and country, Timothy." Jerome held his hand out to the younger man, shaking it with pride when it was accepted.

"Thank you, Sir," Tim said with difficulty, feeling very emotional at this moment.

"I know how you feel, Tim. I wish it was Jenny doing this instead of me." Jerome never wanted the job, and Leon had turned it down, not wishing to see his children grow up without a father.

"Sir, that's not…" Tim started.

"It's ok, Tim. I never wanted this job, and I definitely didn't want to have to take it the way I did."

"Sir, if I may ask," Tim had been pondering this question for the last two months.

"Why me?" Jerome said bluntly. Seeing Tims nod, he continued. "Leon would have loved the job, but he loves his kids more. I don't have that issue. Owen flatly refused it, saying he would end up shooting someone within the first week. Tanya told me to take it, and finish the job Jenny started."

"What was that?" Tim asked, not understanding the last sentence.

"You may not know this, but Jenny and Tanya had been friends at college, Jenny was even at our wedding. When Jenny came down to Jacksonville nearly three years ago, she stayed with us, rather than a hotel. Over dinner, she told us her vision of NCIS. It was to be the best agency America had. Not the biggest or the loudest, but the best. She also had one other mission, one that only myself, Leon and Owen were read in on." Tim hated these missions, or rather, he hated not being a part of it.

"Do I dare ask?" Tim questioned cautiously.

"Jenny knows you will hate it, but the mission was to make sure in about eight to ten years, no more than fifteen, you are ready for this office." Jerome watched as the young man paled, his eyes glancing at the chair.

"Sir, I don't want it."

"Tim, neither do I, neither did Jenny. We were both asked to take it, and do the best we could when we sit it in. For you, it will be different." Jerome knew Jennys plan, and agreed wholeheartedly, as did Leon, Owen, and the President.

"How?" Tim really hated asking his question.

"You will be prepared. Tim, prior to joining the CTOC, you were being watched, by Jenny, and by the other agencies. Once you got to Jacksonville, you were on everybodys radar. You are a good agent, leader, teammate, friend, supervisor, even an unofficial ambassador. I can tell you now, the President has been paid compliments about you from the Ambassadors for the UK, Germany, France, India and Spain. These compliments come from their governments, your name being mentioned regarding your takedowns. Agents Balboa, Wan and Ryan have also begun to get their own fair share, as has Agent Jardine. However, it is you that has been the focus of talks amongst the higher ups in Washington. Tim, like it or not, one day, this chair will be yours, how you get there, is up to you. Jen believed you would be the best director this agency had ever seen. She was wrong." Tim had kept his eyes fixed to Jerome Craig the entire time, his eyes opening wide at the last statement. "You will be the best director this country has ever seen."


	23. Epilogue- Part 1

Three years later.

Special Agent McGee looked down on the bed, not believing the vision that was lying there. Special Agent McGee watched the scene from the doorway, feeling nothing but love at that moment.

"Tim, you going to get your son dressed?" Cassie asked, not wishing to disturb father and son, both of whom loved nothing more than to stare at each other.

"Do I have to?" Tim wished he had said no, but Cassie had told him in no uncertain terms to take the job. "Can't we just stay here forever?"

"You going to tell her "no", then, because I am not being the bearer of that bad news." Cassie looked around at their home, the house Tim had bought for the two of them three years ago. "Come on, get Todd dressed, and yourself. I'll have the coffee ready for when you come down." Cassie made her way out of the bedroom, thinking back on the last three years, the engagement, the wedding, the pregnancy, Zivas wedding, the birth of Tims goddaughter, Jennifer Tali Werth. She remembered the bachelorette party for Bryn six months ago, now the new Mrs Dr James Palmer. Unlike Cassie, Bryn kept her own surname when she was at work.

_Flashback_

"_Tim, we haven't been here for eighteen months, how did you get a table?"_

"_I booked it months ago, on the off chance we got the weekend off. Trust me, I'm still remembered. Plus, Marcus keeps bringing any new authors here when they are on book tours." Marcus Coleman had brought many authors, as well as his wife, to Bistro Aix over the years, never visiting any other restaurant when he was in Jacksonville. "Trust me, William was more than happy for us to eat here." _

_As the two of them walked through the doors, they were both hit with waves of nostalgia, the last time had been the night everything had changed, the night of their first kiss. Cassie remembered that night perfectly, including the very bad ending it had. She only hoped this night went better._

"_Mr McGee, Miss Yates, it is a delight to have you with us, once more. You both look very well, your new jobs must suit you. Shall I show you to your table?"_

"_Not just yet," Cassie said, shocking Tim. "We will be at the bar, if thats alright?"_

"_Of course, Miss Yates. Let me know when you are ready, your table will be waiting." If any other customers had said this, William would have let his displeasure show. When it came to these specific customers, it would take a lot to upset him._

"_Cass, what you doing?" Tim wondered, knowing she never drank before dinner._

"_Letting my hair down, or rather yours." When Cassie got to the bar, she immediately got the attention of the barman. "A Corona, two slices of lime, and a glass of the Plumpjack Chardonnay, please." _

"_What are you doing?" Tim had no idea what had gotten into his girlfriend._

"_Reliving the moment, with a few adjustments." Cassie smiled at him, remembering seeing Tim sat at the bar a year and a half ago. "I know you, Tim, that's why we are here tonight. We are on our first date, again."_

"_Technically, it wasn't the first date, as I hadn't asked you out." Tim was adamant their first date had been the late night surprise picnic when he had returned from Washington, with the news he was moving back with her._

"_Whatever, you have your first date, I'll have mine." Cassie knew it wasn't their first date, but it was the first day of the best years of her life. When the barman returned with the drinks, Cassie had them put on the bill, her and Tim sitting in silence, smiling at each other, enjoying being back in the city and with each other._

"_You think of coming back here? I mean, permanently?" Cassie asked Tim, knowing he loved the city more than he did Washington._

"_Yeah, one day. Think I could retire here, come down for holidays. To move here, with you, I'm not sure." Tim admitted._

"_Could you do it? Give up NCIS, move here, raise a family?"_

"_If it's with you, I could move anywhere, do any job. NCIS is my job, my career, but you are my life. If and when you want children, I am more than happy to raise all of them." Tim would love a family, to raise his and Cassies kids the way his parents had raised him._

"_Well, I'm not saying we can start on a family right now, but we can certainly practice tonight," Cassie offered suggestively._

"_Let's eat first, though. Think I might need my energy," Tim was doing his best to stop the blush he felt creeping up his cheeks. Turning away from Cassie, he spotted the bartender, gaining his attention. "Could you tell William we are ready to be seated, please?"_

"_Of course, Mr McGee." Walking off, Tim was amazed. The bartender was new, yet was aware of who he was. Tim had already phoned ahead to confirm the booking, and had been told that Marcell would be working and had prepared a special menu for them tonight. Tim didn't have the heart to tell Cassie. _

"_Do you think our seat is still there?" Cassie asked, peering through the restaurant to the French-style patio doors at the rear of the dining area. _

"_Most probably, we can go check it out after our set menu." Tim dropped the bombshell now, hoping Cassie would overlook it._

"_What set menu?" Tim was wrong, she heard him perfectly._

"_Marcell found out we were coming, and has prepared a special menu, just for the two of us." Tim hoped she was just as touched as he had been._

"_Are you going to tell me what's on it? Or am I go into the kitchen and beat it out of the man?" Cassie was not happy with this development._

"_I don't know, William wouldn't tell me, and I asked, several times." Tim wondered of the offer for family planning had been taken away._

"_If this goes wrong, McGee, you are in big trouble." _Yeah, Cassie was not happy, _Tim thought._

"_Cass, Marcell has never served food we didn't like. Any money it's food we have already had, but with his extra flair."_

"_It better be." Cassie had been looking forward to the crispy calamari, and she had never had such good risotto anywhere else other than this restaurant._

"_Miss Yates, Mr McGee, your table is ready. Please," William had prepared their table personally, sealing off the fountain garden for his favourite customer and his guest. As they began moving through the restaurant, Cassie wondered where they were going, as William was not taking them to their usual table. When he opened the doors, he stood back to allow Cassie and Tim through. Cassie was blown away by the garden._

_Hanging lights were everywhere, in the trees, around the flowers, suspended from somewhere, hanging in a circle around a table set for two. Cassie looked at Tim, seeing him stood next to her, his mouth hanging open._

"_Please, be seated. Your first course will be out momentarily." With that, William closed the door behind them, placing a rope across the door, indicating to all other guests that the garden was closed for the evening._

"_Tim, please tell me you had something to do with this?" Cassie wondered what William was doing._

"_I had no idea this had been planned. I'd asked for a table for two and some extra privacy. I didn't expect this." Tim began thinking that William knew what was happening that night. "But I'm not complaining. They have the wine, the privacy. Can you hear music?" Tim didn't know if the music was real or his imagination._

"_No, I hear it." Cassie was floored by this, her anger about the special menu having faded to nothing. "Come on, they won't serve us until we sit down." Tim pulled Cassies chair out for her, as he always did, sitting his own, next to her. While most people preferred to sit across from each other, Cassie and Tim always sat next to each other, leaving a space next to them open. This way so they could have a quiet conversation and weren't leaning over the table. Tim saw movement out of the corner of his eye, seeing two waiters approaching them. He wondered what this menu was. The two plates were set down, the silver dome covers lifted to reveal something amazing._

"_Lemon and parsley deep fried calamari, served with tartar sauce," Marcell announced, neither Tim nor Cassie had seen him approach, too ensnared by the food. "Enjoy." Walking off, Marcell heard Miss Yates' comment of "I intend to." Smiling to himself, all of the staff were hoping this night was as special as the last time they had been there._

"_The next time we come here, Marcell better have food as good as this again," Tim said, having tried a piece of the calamari._

"_Marcell is coming with us. You are a good cook, Tim, but he beats you." Cassie couldn't believe the flavour of the squid she was eating._

"_No arguments here." Conversation during the starter was almost nonexistant, exxcept to praise the food and the chef. When they were finished, the two waiters appeared once more, taking the empty plates away._

"_If that was the starter, God help us on the main." Cassie was dreading the dessert, wondering how many hours in the gym she would have to spend to avoid any extra weight gain._

"_I have no idea. You want me to see if it's too late to order the risotto for you?" Tim smirked at his girlfriend. Cassie didn't answer him with words. Instead, she shot a sideways glance at him, her eyes promising pain if he carried on. "OK, no more jokes." The glance remained. "I love you." Cassie smiled at him, leaning in to share a kiss with the man she loved. They heard a door open somewhere, the waiters returning with two more plates. Once the dishes were revealed, Cassie gasped in astonishment._

"_For Miss Yates, we have Duck Leg Confit, served with a red wine jus, french beans and gratin dauphinois. For Mr McGee, we have Fillet of Beef 'Rossini', accompanied with roasted tomatoes and peppers, smoked eggplant, crispy pommes dauphines, served with an au Poivre sauce. Please, enjoy." Marcell heard no words as he walked away, hoping his dessert left them just as speechless. As Tim and Cassie took their first mouthful, they looked at each other. Tim was the first to swallow, and the first to speak._

"_I'm employing Marcell, I'm never cooking again." Tim was amazed at the chefs skills, knowing these dishes were not on the menu._

"_I'm never leaving," Cassie said, preparing her next forkful of food. "Either we move back, or he moves to Washington. Think we can bribe him?"_

"_Blackmail is illegal, but I think I can ignore that if we can get him to move." Tim believed he was eating the best meal of his life._

_Tim and Cassie made small talk over the meal, mostly comparing it to the food they had in Washington. Both agreed this food was the best, Cassie knowing she would have to get Marcell to send Tim the recipe for the calamari. When they had both finished, they looked at each other._

"_I don't know if my taste buds can handle dessert," Cassie admitted, her mouth still salivating from the flavours of the duck._

"_Tell me about it," Tim said standing, wondering if he would still get into his clothes in the morning. "So, do you really want to hire Marcell?" Tim asked, semi seriously._

"_Given half a chance and a bigger bank balance, absolutley!" Cassie took the time to look around the garden, noticing a few newer fountains had been included since they had last been there._

"_Well, we could always hire him just for the wedding," Tim said, his voice coming up to her, rather than down. Turning, Cassie saw Tim on one knee, a box open in his hand._

"_Cassandra Beatrice Yates, I love you, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I want to marry you. Will you marry me?" He had only told his father what he was planning, Cassies father had disapproved of him at their first meeting, and had not changed his mind yet. Tim looked into Cassies eyes as he said this, keeping it simple, the way they kept their relationship._

"_YES! YES! YES!" Cassie couldn't believe it, she had hoped Tim would ask her soon, but didn't realise it would happen that night. She watched as he placed the ring on her finger, the light catching the diamond. Cassie reached for Tims face, her lips finding his. She felt her love for him, spreading through her body. She knew she would soon be Mrs McGee, and she couldn't be happier._

_Marcell had been hoping the shared dessert of warm blueberry tarte served with salted caramel ice cream would have been the piece de resistance, but had not counted on Mr McGee proposing this early._

_End Flashback._

* * *

As Cassie looked down at the round diamond cluster engagement ring, and the white gold wedding band, the one that matched Tims own, she hoped they would be as happy in their new home as they had been here. She heard Tim come into the kitchen, he and Todd both dressed. As Tim placed Todd in his chair, Cassie passed him his coffee.

"Are you all set?" Cassie asked.

"Are you?" Tim countered. "It's not just me and you anymore. There's Sailor to think of, and hopefully, Airman and Marine to come." Tim had given his son the nickname when Cassie was pregnant, neither wanting to know. Cassie had added the other two names for their children yet to be born. "Is this the right thing to do for him?" Tim was still worried about the move, both in terms of location and career.

"Tim, you've done this before, and look how you turned out. You're pretty amazing."

"I know, but still…" Tim couldn't shake away the doubt.

"Tim, the President asked, you agreed. I agreed to this, your parents and sister agreed, even my dad thinks it's a good idea. That alone is worth the hassle of moving." Cassie was thrilled when her dad seemed happy with Tims new job, knowing it would get him out of the firing line in Washington, knowing he was going somewhere safer, marginally, but still safer.

"I know, but I can't help but wonder if this was part of the mission." Tim had told Cassie about Jenny Shepards plan three years ago. Cassie knew Tim would make an outstanding NCIS director, but Tim had to get there his way. She hoped this new job helped him get there, because Cassie couldn't wait to see her husband standing on the catwalk, looking down over the bullpen, pride on his face, and hopefully, three kids running around him.

_Tims new job will be revealed soon._


	24. Epilogue- Part 2

Six weeks before moving.

Special Agent Timothy McGee, Head of Intelligence, NCIS, a husband and father, walked through the corridors of executive power, making his way to the Oval Office. He was often called to the White House to brief the President, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and/or the National Security Council but this evening was different. The staff were all hyper-energized, still in the election honeymoon phase. Anna Elliott had been returned to the White House with an increased majority, and had brought a Democratic Congress with her, and a split Senate. Her Cabinet was mostly intact, with only two Secretaries resigning. Tim wondered why he had been summoned, as he walked into the outer office.

"Good evening, Special Agent McGee for the President." Tim looked at the woman sitting at the desk of the executive assistant. Unlike the assistants in NCIS, this woman was not a trained security agent, but a woman who controlled who got to see the most powerful woman in the world. Training in how to shoot a Sig Sauer would make her twice as dangerous as she was.

"The President is in the residence, Agent McGee. Denise will escort you up," Marcia West was a woman who had seen Presidents, Prime Ministers, Chancellors, and even Kings and Queens pass through this office, and while they were impressive, it was the Special Agents and Police officers she had the most respect for. They volunteered for a life of service, and spent most of their lives under constant threat. Politicians for the most part had the most serious threats when they were in high public office, the agents and law enforcement officers had it the minute they put the badge on.

"Thank you." Tim was confused as he followed the woman called Denise out of the french doors and on to the Portico that surrounded the White House. This was the preferred way for the President to get from the Residence to the Oval Office. Several minutes later, Tim was standing outside the elevator to the Residence, wondering what was happening.

"Agent McGee, please, the President is ready for you," Denise said, as much in the dark as the agent regarding this meeting.

"Thank you." Tim was hoping the President had good news for him, or was hoping for an update on several ongoing cases. He began sorting out his thoughts, mentally double checking current operations around the globe he was monitoring. He had no idea what the President was going to ask him. When the doors opened, Tim stepped out of the elevator, almost walking into Aaron Elliot, the first First Gentleman the United States of America had ever had.

"Agent McGee, it's good to see you again." Aaron Elliot had his almost permanent smile for the agent, stretching his hand out.

"You too, Sir." Shaking his hand, Tim recalled the husband of the President. He had met the man several times, and was surprised by the mans memory, he seemed to recall facts about people and places with almost perfect clarity.

"How are Cassie and Todd doing? Is he sleeping through the night yet?" Aaron and Anna had sent the youngest McGee a collection of Agatha Christie novels, knowing that Todds parents were keen readers, and that his father loved mystery novels, both reading and writing them. Tim had smiled when he opened the gift, Cassie had frowned. The books were written in German, meaning Tim would have to teach him the language in order for him to read the christening present sent by the President of the United States of America, and her family.

"They are both great," Tim was talking about favourite subject. "He goes down about seven, and is up about five. Me and Cassie both normally got up at six, so we are taking it turns right now, so at least one of us gets a lie in." Tim had taken a month off when Todd had been born, using up his parental leave, as well as some of his annual leave. "I have already thanked the President, but your gift for him was truly special, thank you." Tim had been truly touched by the books.

"Think nothing of it. Anna had mentioned it in passing, and presents should be as unique as possible. Clothes he would have grown out of, but Agatha Christie never grows old." Aaron was a huge fan of the authors works. "Have you ever seen the production of _The Mousetrap, _Tim?"

"No, Sir, I haven't." Tim had never seen any of the authors works, except what he had seen on television.

"Anna and I saw it in London last year, on her state visit. Did you know the show is the longest running play in the history of the London theatre world? It has been going for more than sixty years, and is still in its initial run, never having closed." Aaron was a font of useless trivia, it made him great at making small talk, able to entertain or distract someone at dinner parties.

"Really?" Tim was intrigued, wondering if he and Cassie could take it in in a few years. Tim wanted to show Todd, and hopefully his future children the cities of the world. "That's impressive."

"Isn't it? Anyway, have a seat, Anna is just talking with the German Chancellor, she won't be long. I'll leave you here, help yourself to coffee. Give Cassie my best, won't you?" With that, Aaron Elliott left the agent alone, his thoughts as his only company. Aaron hoped the young man took the job, knowing he would be very good at it.

Tim sat on the sofa, pouring himself a cup of coffee, looking out of the window, overlooking the city. Tim thought it was one of the best views in the city. He enjoyed the silence offered to him, never having much of it anymore. While he loved his son more than he thought possible, his screams would take some getting used to.

"Tim, I apologise for keeping you." Anna Elliott stepped out of her study, clutching a large mug of tea. "The Chancellor and I were just catching up."

"It's fine, Ma'am. To be honest, I was enjoying the view." Tim found it best to always be honest with Anna Elliott, even if it meant upsetting her. He knew the woman hated people trying to suck up to her.

"Let me guess, the silence was nice too," She smirked.

"Yeah, something like that," Tim admitted.

"You and Cassie will begin to treasure those moments. The baby will be asleep, the tv will be off, the phones aren't ringing, and the two of you won't even talk, incase you ruin it."

"Speaking from experience, Ma'am?" Tim asked, knowing she had three sons, all grown up now.

"A lot of it. It's amazing now, the silence is easy to find. Once you have three kids, all wanting different things at the same time, while screaming at each other, you and Cassie will look at each other and think _Why did we have kids?. _This doesn't make you bad parents, just exhausted and loving ones." Anna laughed at this, knowing her own mother had said something very similar to her many years ago.

Tim laughed along with her, getting to know the President a little more, something she did when she was alone with one of her favourite intelligence employees.

"I suppose you are wondering why I got you in here, especially at night."

"Yes, Ma'am." Tim hoped he was not up for transfer.

"I got you in to let you know of a few things. First, I have less than four years left in office. For the next two years, we have a Democratic House and a split Senate. This means I am more than likely able to get most of my campaign pledges pushed through with ease. It also means I can get my cabinet secretaries confirmed, along with most my political appointees." Tim wondered why he was having a lesson in American Government. "Second, I have made some changes to the foreign policy of this country. As you are well aware, I used to be the Under Secretary of State, before being made Secretary. I travelled a fair bit and pushed for closer relations with Europe and the European Union." Tim was aware of the Presidents former career, having talked to her in that role once before. "For the first four years of my Presidency, I struggled with my foreign policy, having to settle on career diplomats for most of the ambassadorships, with only the UN Ambassador, and a few important countries being my own personal selections."

TIm had no idea where this conversation was going, with him being Law Enforcement and Intelligence, not a State Department employee.

"Right now, our foreign missions are in some disarray, with the US being represented by inexperienced ambassadors and staff. One of these is the EU. We work closely with most of the countries in the EU, France, Germany, Italy and the UK are four out of the seven countries in the G7, and France and the UK sit with us on the UN security council. Most of Europe is part of NATO, and our peacekeeping missions, both through the UN and NATO, are reliant on these partnerships." Tim was getting worried, his chess skills telling him he was being set up for a new job. "Thanks to your three years at the CTOC, your time as the Interpol Liaison, you have a great relationship with most these countries, especially the UK, France, Germany, and Spain. Tim, I was going to ask you to take a post with the National Security Council, to be responsible for international cooperation between ourselves and foreign intelligence agencies, building closer relations." Tim now knew what his real job offer would be. "After speaking with certain members of the NSC, I realise you would end up having blazing rows with trying to get our people in line, rather than our allies. Instead, I want to you take up the post of US Ambassador to the European Union."

And there it was, the job offer. Tim was amazed by the offer, thinking that the President would want him to join the NSA or DOD, not once had he thought it would be joining the State Department.

"Ma'am, I'm not a politician, or a diplomat. I wouldn't have the first idea how to do the job," Tim told her, shocked that he had been selected for the role.

"Tim, you are being too modest. Don't forget, I have read your file. You built up a very close relationship with Interpol, GCHQ UK, the BND and BfV in Germany, DGSE and Police Nationale in France. Jerome told you about the compliments you have received from some our allies. You have been talked about at nearly every meeting I've had over the last six weeks regarding the NSC, CIA, DOD, FBI, NCIS, State and Justice. You are in high demand."

"But, why?" Tim exclaimed, astonished at what the President was saying. He hadn't done anything special. "All I have been doing is my job."

"You do more than that and you know it." Anna Elliott did not like this part of TIm McGee, the part that didn't see how extraordinary he was. "Tim, I doubt there is any other department head in any agency that bakes cakes and cookies for his staff. If I asked, I doubt a handful of department heads could say they have an employment satisfaction of ninety eight percent." If the President had commissioned a report on it, NCIS Intelligence would be leading the pack of departments by a fair margin. "You have transformed NCIS Intelligence over the last three years. Productivity has increased by more than thirty percent since Gloria Tainer retired. You have retained almost eighty five percent of the staff, and added more than thirty people to the department. That increase cannot be attributed to the new staff alone, or the existing staff. It came from the changes you made when you took over, and the changes you have continued to make."

"But who would take over from me? You've made it sound like I'm irreplaceable there." Tim knew he was not, he had been training all the section heads to step in to cover him at a moments notice, and also had two people in each section ready to take their bosses place when necessary.

"Paula Cassidy, Vera Strickland and Ric Balboa are the frontrunners for the post. Both Spec Ops and the CTOC have candidates to step up to cover them, or to transfer over to the National Counter Terrorism Centre to cover Vera." Anna Elliott had taken more of an interest in NCIS than her predecessors, Jenny Shepard having pushed the agency onto a similar footing with the CIA, and Timothy McGee using navy and marine assets to get their operations done in a quicker timeframe than their CIA and FBI counterparts could. "The CTOC and SpecOps won't suffer from any of this, with plenty of people more than qualified to step up and cover." The President knew she was asking a lot of the man. "Take some time, speak with Cassie and your family. I know it would require a massive sacrifice on your part. Giving up your home, your job, and if Cassie decides to move with you, she will have to give up her job as well. We could use her over there, I have no doubt about it. I'm sure we could find her a liaison post with Interpol over there, somewhere." The President had put a lot of thought into this, Tim McGee having been her first, last and only choice for the post.

"Is there no one else that could the job?" Tim asked, not wanting to uproot his family.

"There are plenty of people who could do the job, Tim, but none as good as you. The EU Ambassador will represent this country to both the European Union, and all its member states. You would be a frontline representative of this country in a similar way the way you were at the CTOC." This had been one of the main reasons for her choice. "Tim, I was informed of one of your rules, I believe it is "Don't waste good", and, you Tim, are very, very good. The Chancellor of Germany just asked me who I was thinking about for the post, I told him no decision had been made. He told me that he would choose someone who was not in the State Department, but who was well respected by members of his law enforcement teams. Even the German Chancellor wants you there. As the unofficial leader of the Eurozone countries, you have his endorsement. The Senate would approve you, probably with a ninety percent majority. Just think about it and let me know, please."

Tim looked at her, wondering what Cassie would have to say about this.


	25. Epilogue- Part 3

As the car pulled up to NCIS Headquarters, Tim saw a lot of people standing around, ready to say goodbye to him and his family. His car was being sold to Xavier Balboa, the car mad older brother of his former boss, who would pick it up from Tims mom sometime over the next two weeks. Tim would miss his car, having had it for nearly ten years, but it was still in near perfect condition. Once he arrived in Berlin, he would be driven everywhere, while Cassie would be given an embassy car for her time there, in her new position as NCIS Liaison to Interpol, providing a direct point person between the two agencies.

"You ready to say goodbye?" Cassie asked her husband, knowing both of them had gone through this several times.

"No, but I'll get through it." Tim stepped out of the car, moving to let Todd out of his car seat, the eight month old boy hating to be left out of anything. "Come on, Sailor, time to see everyone." Tim held his son close to him, knowing he would be happy no matter the city or job as long as Cassie and Todd were with him.

"Here we go again, Tim," Jimmy said, having been here when Tim left for Florida.

"Yeah, but last time I was still NCIS and only moving to a different state, now I'm leaving the agency, the country, heck, even the continent." Tim said this with a smile, having spent six weeks planning the move to the Ambassadors residence in Berlin. "How are you finding having everybody here?"

"It's fine, but will be better when they leave." Jimmy grumbled, not happy with some of the people here, taking his godson from his father, allowing Tim to say goodbye to everybody.

"Gibbs, you know you didn't have to do this." Tim had stayed in contact with his former boss, who had become a shadow of his former self, the death of Jenny Shepard hitting him almost as hard as Shannons.

"Tim, I never said goodbye the last time you left DC, this time I will." Gibbs was also planning to leave the city, heading out to Hawaii to see Hollis Mann. They had become good friends, and Gibbs had told her he would probably never date another woman, let alone get married ever again. "Good luck, Tim. Keep in touch." Gibbs had always been a man of few words, giving his former agent a hug.

"Thank you, Gibbs, you too." Tim had not spoken much to his old boss in three years, Gibbs having enforced almost permanent exile on himself, blaming himself for Jennys death. Tim looked around at the people gathered. Jimmy and Bryn, Ziva, Damon and little Jen, Ducky, Director Craig and his wife, half of the Intelligence division were here as well. Tim had begged his parents to say goodbye at the airport rather than at NCIS, knowing this would be hard enough. Tim decided to get the two people who looked the most uncomfortable out of the way next. "Tony, Abby, thanks for coming."

"Timmy, how could we let you go without saying goodbye?" Abby asked, "We did that once before and look what happened." Abby had changed so much in the last three years, her goth persona mostly gone, but she still wore her dog collar. "You take care over there, and stay in touch, okay?" Giving him a trademark hug, Abby did her best not to cry.

"Tim, I know I have been a huge pain in your ass since the day you met me. So, I say this with absolute sincerity. No one deserves this more than you," Tony had come to realise a lot since he had been fired from NCIS, and mostly that he was not the most important thing in the universe. "Good luck in Belgium, Mr Ambassador." Like Abby and Gibbs, Tony hugged the man, knowing Tim was going to be amazing over there.

"Thanks, Tony, Abby, I'll email once I'm settled in." Tim moved away from them, over to his staff, knowing this would be much more difficult. He had seen Ziva and Damon move over to the car, with Jen in her moms arms, her hands playing with Zivas curly tresses. "You ready for this lot, Vera?" Tim asked his replacement, knowing the woman had a similar career to Jenny Shepard, former covert ops, before moving to counterterrorism. Like himself, Vera had no political ambitions, or any burning desire to be promoted, but would accept them and do the job to the best of their abilities.

"I'm sure we will get on great. You sure you wanna leave the sofa?" Vera asked, believing Tim would have had it move out.

"After all the trouble we had getting it in, the thing can stay there until the building falls down." Tim said, laughing, knowing Cassie and Bryn had had similar thoughts about the sofa.

"OK, then. Good luck, Tim," She said, shaking his hand, not knowing him well enough to hug him. It took Tim more than twenty minutes to say goodbye to everyone, his staff and the NCIS MCRTs taking up most of his time. When he got to Ziva and Damon, and Bryn and Jimmy, he and Cassie almost broke down.

The three couples had become a regular part of each other lives, with Tim being Jennys Godfather, Jimmy and him being each others best man for their weddings, Bryn and Cassie being each others maid of honour, and Damon finally becoming part of the group, when Ziva finally told him who Thom E. Gemcity was. Tim looked around the group, seeing a lot of sad faces.

"How do we wanna do this?" Tim asked, "One by one, or a big group hug?" He said with a smirk. This broke the ice of the solemn group, everyone having a little laugh.

"I'm gonna miss you, man," Damon pulled Tim into a man hug, "I want a Skype call from you once a week, that way Jenny won't miss Uncle Tim too much."

"You got it." Tim may have disapproved of Damons actions over the drugs, but as a husband, father and businessman, he was second to none. "Keep sending me pictures of her as well. I want to see how much she grows." With those words, Tim grabbed hold of his goddaughter, lifting her above his head, her shrills of laughter bringing a smile to everyones faces. "I'm going to miss you, Miss David. I love you."

"I wuv you, Unca Tim." Tim wondered what she would be able to say when he was next in the States.

"Come here," Tim spread his other arm for Ziva, her tears having begun to run down her face.

"This is the second time we have done this, this time is no easier." Ziva knew Tim was doing the right thing in taking the job and moving to Belgium. It did not mean she had to like the fact her daughter would miss her godfather, knowing the reverse was true.

"I know, but you can come visit. You are the boss now, you can take time off whenever you like, right?" Damon had started his own security firm after leaving the Marines, and it had become highly successful, receiving government contracts to protect American officials, both at home and abroad, Ziva had joined the company after Jennys birth, knowing it was easier than coming back to NCIS.

"Yeah, we can, Tim," Interrupted Damon. "You just let us know when we can visit, and I'll get both of these beautiful women on the next plane over."

"We'll see each other soon, Ziva." Tim knew the tears were not far away. Passing Jen to her father, Tim wrapped his other arm around Ziva, allowing her to cry into his shoulder. It took a few seconds before Ziva let go.

"Well, Tim, you better take care of my sister and godson, otherwise you will be in big trouble, Ambassador or not," Bryn Palmer said, knowing full well Tim would sacrifice his own life before any harm came to his wife and son.

"Got it." Bryn and Cassie referred to themselves as sisters most of the time, mainly because neither had real sisters, and also because strangers often believed that the two women who both had dark skin, eyes and hair, along with similar builds, genuinely were related. "You take of Jimmy in return. I want to find him working in Autopsy, not a guest."

"Got it," Bryn and Tim hugged, Cassie and Jimmy also hugging behind them. Letting go, Tim watched as Jimmy passed his son back to his mother, seeing Jimmy wipe away the tears on his face. Tim knew this was much worse than when he had left for Jacksonville. That time he was saying goodbye to work colleagues. This time, his friends were saying goodbye to him and his family.

"Here we are again," Joked Jimmy. He and Tim had become best friends over the last few years, each watching the other change into the men they were now. The two of them had been saying goodbye over the last few weeks, this was just the last time they had to say it. "You take care over there. Keep Cassie and Todd safe, and come home once in a while." Jimmy hated saying goodbye.

"You can always come visit, you know. Damon and Ziva are going to come over, come with them, it would be easier than trying to have everyone visit at different times." Tim knew he got five weeks leave from his post, but he would lose a lot of time flying back to the US to really enjoy a vacation. He and Cassie were hoping to meet his parents in Paris in a few months, when his parents visited on their worldwide vacation, something his father had promised his mom when he retired from the Navy. "Besides, I've never been to Belgium, so we could visit somewhere other than Brussels for a few days." Tim was looking forward to getting to know his home for the next few years. He and Jimmy hugged like it was their last time, both knowing they would see each other as soon as possible. When he let go of his best friend, Tim saw Damon putting Todd in the car seat, Cassie standing by the passenger door with Bryn and Ziva on either side of her. Tim looked around them, seeing everyone for one last waved, getting in the car. He and Cassie would leave the car at the airport, being collected by his mom, who was waiting for him and Cassie at the airport, along with his father. Looking up at the building, Tim said his final goodbyes.

"Bye, Kate, bye, Jen." Looking at Cassie, Tim saw her crying, doing his best to stop himself. "Let's get going, shall we, Mrs McGee?"

* * *

_Authors Note._

_A massive thank you to all the readers of the series, and a special thank you to Alix33 who has helped me with my spelling mistakes and grammar issues. The _Bad McGee/Good McGee _has come to an end, I hope I do not leave you all too disappointed. I have several other stories on the go, all of which focus on McGee. He is my favourite character, and I hope a favourite of all of you as well._

_Once again, lots of thanks for reading, and I hope you have enjoyed the story._

_McgeeIsMyFave._


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